Paradigm
by Kodiak Bear Country
Summary: McKay and Sheppard gate in search of a ZPM. Getting home is going to be a problem.[COMPLETE]
1. A Wet Day

AN: This is a new version. I've taken on two very good beta's to work on improving stories. There haven't been any drastic changes, minor grammatical fixes and wording here and there.

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**Chapter One**

**A Wet Day**

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The rain splattered against the bark of the tree, shattering into smaller droplets before slowly beginning their individual descent towards the saturated ground and another stage in the water cycle of the planet. Major Sheppard watched as the water oozed around his fingers resting against the tree, and trickled downwards, momentarily struck by the similarities to Earth. 

They had been to many planets already. Some were as alien as he would've imagined a different planet in a different galaxy to be, but some struck him as remarkably home-like, and always that little pang of melancholy would hit and he'd realize how much he missed simple things like listening to the rain at night. Granted, it rained on the planet where Atlantis was settled, but you couldn't hear the sounds inside the city. It wasn't the same.

"Major, there's nothing here. This trip was a waste of time." The voice spoke behind Sheppard. John pulled his hand away from the trunk of the tree, away from the memories of home and things long past. "We had to try," he said, speaking to McKay though he remained facing away from the scientist, the words falling flatly between them, some trace of the earlier melancholy remaining.

McKay eyed the Major's back. He had recovered from his close call on the Hive ship, but he was different. _Hell, look who's talking_, he wasn't the only one changed. He had tried to talk to Sheppard after, there on that balcony that was becoming the last refuge for the wounded psyches, but in the end he'd had to retreat. _Still a coward_, he thought ruthlessly of himself. "We should go," he said.

Sheppard turned and finally looked McKay in the eye. "Probably." A thin rivulet ran down his forehead and scuttled down his cheek till it hit the edge of his chin, where it paused and gathered mass till it was large enough for gravity to tug it away from his face. "I wouldn't mind trips like this if we'd only thought to pack an umbrella."

McKay smiled half-heartedly, "Weren't you in charge of the inventory?"

"Maybe…possibly," he answered. Actually, he had been, but the weather had been clear and it wasn't like umbrellas were standard issue anyway. He tightened the straps on his back, and readjusted the gun hanging on his front. "How long do you think it rains around here?" He wondered if they'd be battling the weather the entire way, it'd take an hour to get back to the gate. The ground was turning into a mud hole that only a pig could love, and while he was sure some past girlfriends would accuse him of being a swine, he didn't enjoy wallowing in the mire.

McKay squinted at the sky. It was filled with dark, billowing clouds that covered the area in a promise of bad weather and possible floods. "Think Ark, Major."

Sheppard narrowed his eyes, "As in…"

"Noah's Ark." McKay supplied. "It's going to be raining for a while. Remember that river we crossed?"

Sheppard did remember. The power reading had led them to a shallow river. It wasn't deep or rapid so he'd said to push onward, the hope of finding a possible ZPM dragging them on. "Yes, I remember."

"It's probably not shallow anymore." McKay said.

"Damn," Sheppard berated himself for not considering the ramifications of the rain, "if we hurry it should be okay." He figured the rain had begun after they had crossed the river, maybe thirty minutes ago. They could make it before the river rose to dangerous levels.

John was off his game, and this was a slap in the face proving what he already suspected. He'd fought to recover from recent events and he thought he'd made enough progress. Now he wondered if he had any business leading a team.

Rodney could tell Sheppard was angry with himself. He should have said something earlier. He knew John wasn't quite back to normal and yet he'd agreed to this expedition, recommended it, although he'd managed to convince Elizabeth that the two of them could handle this simple run. He wanted to talk to Sheppard about the balcony scene he had run from. He wanted to give Sheppard a chance to talk about what was eating him because _everyone_ knew something was bothering him, and McKay was smart enough to realize it wasn't his little confession about Brendan. "It'll be fine." That was all he could say.

"Are you coming?" Sheppard's irritated voice caused McKay to realize he'd been participating in an internal monologue and speaking to the air, as Sheppard had all ready begun the trek back.

John wanted to laugh for the first time in a long time at the expression on McKay's face. The man was an open book. He rolled his eyes and suppressed anything further, turning back to the trail they'd left. He heard McKay jog to catch up. He knew McKay had arranged this little trip out together. Male bonding, confessional, whatever it was for, John wasn't going to play along. His demons were just that, _his_, and he'd keep them that way. "Pay attention," he chastised, feeling an urge to needle the scientist.

"Me?" McKay snorted, "Who walked us for over an hour in pouring rain?"

"Thirty minutes," Sheppard corrected.

"Same thing."

John shook his head. "You are something else, McKay."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rodney could tell the intent was not complimentary.

Sheppard shrugged. "Forget it."

McKay had had it. "No, I won't." It was time for them to get this out and over with. He'd spent the entire trip walking on eggshells, trying to broach the subject, and being rebuffed at every turn. He reached a hand to stop Sheppard's forward progress, "If you've got something to say, then say it."

John felt the anger and emotion flare. He stopped and turned on McKay so fast the physicist almost fell back.

"You've always got to be right, even when you're wrong." Sheppard didn't care if he said something he knew he'd later regret; at that point, in the heat of the moment, when you throw all caution to the wind and let your heart overtake your mind.

"You're so damn egotistical and selfish that you can't see the sun from the stars, _that's_ what I mean!" he accused.

McKay threw his hands in the air. "That's rich, coming from you. How many has it been Major? Three, four…five?" he demanded, his voice laced with venom from being backed in a corner.

The question threw Sheppard off. "Three what?" he asked, still pissed.

"People dead, Major. People that have died under _your_ command." McKay knew it was now or never. Like a festering wound, the only way to rid the body of the toxin was to painfully rip the scab and let the poison drain. He was going to pick Sheppard's self-imposed scab and force him into releasing the poison tainting his insides.

Despite knowing he was treading dangerous ground, he was unprepared for the swing that hit him head on and knocked him on his ass. He raised a hand to his throbbing eye, hoping nothing was fractured. _Damn it_! McKay may have been a geek, but he knew how to fight. He jumped up and grabbed Sheppard's shoulders, as the man was turning to walk away. He twisted John around and took a swing at his face, connecting with Sheppard's lip and felt the skin split and the salty blood start to ooze. The momentum from the hit sent Sheppard down this time.

John stared at McKay in shock. His head had been given a serious blow and his ears were ringing from the impact. The rain was mixing with the blood from his busted lip, causing saliva, blood and water to merge and diluted, fall to his shirt. Sheppard angrily swiped the liquid with a wrist. "You son of a bitch!" he swore, and leapt up with a jump and drilled McKay in the stomach with his head, and both men fell hard to the ground. Sheppard quickly righted himself, and straddled McKay across his chest, yanking McKay's arms to either side of Rodney's head, immobilizing the man. "Take it back," he threatened.

McKay stared at him defiantly, "You need to talk about it, Major, or it's going to continue to eat you up and reduce you to an ineffective blob of humanity stuck in Heightmeyer's office and being good for nothing more than Wraith bait."

Sheppard's grip lessened as he tried to digest the words McKay had fired off in his rapid manner. "Wraith bait?" he echoed, with a hint of a smile, anger draining away as quickly as it had arrived.

Rodney sensed the Major's lessening hold on his arms, and surged up, shoving John to the side, where he fell, not resisting. McKay rubbed his arms and sat there, soaking wet, covered in mud. "Wraith bait." he repeated.

John pushed himself up into a sitting position beside McKay; his hair plastered to his forehead, swollen lip a compliment to McKay's black eye. "Did you mean it?"

"Mean what?"

"That you couldn't handle losing another so soon after Gaul's death?"

McKay blanched. "You heard?" He had said those words to Sheppard when John had lain unconscious in the infirmary after Beckett had revived him from the treatment to rid his body of the Wraith virus caused by the Tic-Wraith.

John nodded, scrubbing a hand across his face, wincing as he rubbed his lip inadvertently. "I can't do this, McKay. You're right, you know. Look at how many people have died…Gaul, Abrams, Sumner…and not even all on our side. I've had to kill. Wraith, Genii…ending lives isn't what I thought I'd signed on for."

"They'd kill you. You're only doing what we have to." McKay found it ironic that he was the one reassuring the soldier that killing was necessary, but he knew Sheppard was the optimist. He'd had a carefree nature, and he knew from the first time they'd met the Athosians and Sheppard offered friendship to Teyla by offering to have a cup of tea, that he'd believe in the best before he'd expect the worst.

"I know," Sheppard said. "I do, really. Especially the Wraith, but when I was changing…" John paused, searching for the words to describe what it'd felt like. The Wraith were like them in more ways than he'd have believed. He'd had all the same feelings but he'd also been driven by a hunger that had made everything else seem unimportant. It had made him think of a wounded animal. They'd turn on their beloved masters out of fear and pain. It was exactly what it'd been like lying in that infirmary bed. In one moment he could remember the friends around him, but the next he would've struck out with all he had to end that awful pain inside that begged to be satiated.

"You wouldn't understand," he finished lamely.

"You were one of them." McKay supplied, "You know what it feels like and you have a sympathy for them." Sheppard nodded. "It's the Stockholm effect." Rodney continued, "Or close to it, really."

Sheppard started to shake his head no. "Get real," he stood up, trying to brush off as much mud as possible.

"I'm serious," McKay insisted. "You wonder if you'll be able to face them again and fight effectively."

John offered a hand to McKay, pulling him to his feet. He wanted to deny Rodney's theory but found it _was_ what he feared and it rankled him that McKay had so easily read him. Talk about open book, he'd thought McKay was one and now here he was being read just as easily.

"What if I can't? What if I hesitate, and it's just enough to cost a life?" Sheppard said, his voice barely more than a whisper in the wind, the downfall of rain threatening to drown out his admission.

Rodney stared at him hard, grabbing both his arms in a fierce grasp, "You _can,_ Major. You won't. I promise." McKay knew that was it, he had broken through Sheppard's defenses and now hopefully John would begin to heal and recover.

Sheppard stood awkwardly, "You can let go."

McKay let his hands drop, "You won't try to hit me again?"

"Try?"

"Funny."

Sheppard grinned. "I thought so," he said, moving on the trail towards the river. It was now ankle deep mud and not a lot of fun slogging through. He knew they'd have some explaining to do when they got back to Atlantis. "Do you think Beckett would believe a run-in with a tree did this?" He gestured at the damage to their faces.

"Only if we could show him a tree with knuckles." McKay pointed at some telltale bruising already breaking out on Sheppard's chin area.

Sheppard winced, remembering the hit, "Yeah, about that, how did you learn to hit so hard?"

McKay had stopped listening to Sheppard, his attention drawn by the roaring in his ears, coming from ahead. He was looking at what had been a shallow meandering river earlier and now was a huge hungry monster clawing at the countryside. "Oh no."

John puzzled at McKay's response before he realized the cause. He stared in dismay at their only way back to the gate. The river had to have doubled in size and how deep it was now he could only begin to guess, probably four feet if he judged from the landmarks he remembered from earlier, up three feet from when they crossed before. Four feet was bad news. Four feet was going to carry some current, and probably enough force to yank them off their feet. This was going to be tricky, _very_ tricky.


	2. River Crossing

AN: Again, another edited version, no major changes, grammatical differences for hopefully a better story! Also, my thanks to Bastet and Gaffer for the wonderful job as a Beta.

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**Chapter Two**

**River Crossing

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Sheppard stared at the opposite bank, hoping something would come to mind. A straight crossing was not an option. If they were lucky enough to not get pulled under, debris would probably hit them. He examined the shore upstream from their position looking for any natural landscape they could use to their advantage.

The water lapped against his boots reminding him of the need for urgency. He stepped towards an area of the forest to their right where a large tree stretched over halfway across the galloping river. They had rope; they could rig a line if he could get it to hook on the branch of the tree opposite the big one. He pursed his lips together, mentally checking supplies and the angle of the shot. Their packs included a small harpoon like gun. The military took a few lessons from Batman…or would that be Spiderman? _Focus, John_, Sheppard thought crossly, _Spiderman, definitely_.

"Major, as much as I enjoy the view, are you planning on something other than remaining still until the river washes away any chance of crossing for the next, oh, week?" McKay snapped, the thread of apprehension dancing in the air between them.

"Keep your pants on, McKay." Sheppard threw his arms around the massive trunk, and grabbed for a branch just above his head, pulling himself into the tree. "I've got a plan."

McKay bounced his head nervously. "He's got a plan," he mumbled to himself, "Relax…relaxing…see, I'm relaxed." He realized he was gripping his pack tight enough to whiten his knuckles. He released his hold and whispered, "Relaxed, right."

John was now too far up to notice McKay's anxiety. He reached for the next branch and brought his head up only to smack into another branch directly overhead that he hadn't seen. The water-laden leaves shook off their burden with the unexpected impact and soaked his shoulders. His black shirt oozed water where the pack pulled, the material having reached maximum saturation earlier. He brushed the leaves to the side impatiently and tried to steady his grip on the slippery bark, and heaved himself up. He wrapped his legs around the branch, clenching his knees tight to keep his balance, and tried to judge the height of the target on the other side. It looked about right.

"McKay!" he called. He saw Rodney look towards him, his eyes blinking against the rain falling on his face.

"What?"

"Tell me if the rope connects where it's supposed to, I can't see because of the leaves." Sheppard brushed another stream of water from his eyes. The verdant tree was draining water into him as efficiently as an aqueduct system, making it hard to keep his target in sight.

"Oh sure," McKay grouched. "Do I look like I've got windshield wipers for eyes?"

"Do it!" Sheppard hollered above the roaring river. Damn, he was wet. They had worn t-shirts and vests with their packs. The climate was warm, humid and looking back one could say tropical _you know that thing about hindsight_.

John steadied his arm and squinted through the driving rain, now was as good a time as any. He depressed the trigger and mentally offered a small prayer that the shot hit true, and would dig into the woody part of the branch, and would hold their weight. He felt the small recoil and held on as the miniscule spear shot across the width, thin nylon cord quickly unraveling. It must have hit because the cord stopped moving. He gave a tug and it held. "McKay?"

"It looked good," Rodney thought of adding that he couldn't tell if it hit the branch or something else. The sky had darkened to a post twilight gloom and he was having a hard time seeing his hand in front of his face. Visibility was approaching a level of only a few feet in front of them, and that river was stretching wider than a few feet at this point.

He heard Sheppard descending through the branches and managed to not flinch when he jumped down beside him, "You didn't see a thing." John said.

"No." McKay admitted. "Sorry."

Sheppard shook his head, "Don't worry about it." He peered across the turbulent water, "I can't see anything either."

"What now?"

"We go for it." Sheppard pulled his pack to the ground and started pulling items out.

"What are you doing?" McKay asked, shocked to see the Major unloading needed supplies.

John held two MRE's in his hand and seemed to judge their importance, then shoved them to the side, "That cord is made to hold weight but that branch over there might not be good enough. We've got to lighten our load."

McKay frowned at the thought. What if something happened and they needed the supplies? What if they couldn't gate out of here or couldn't find the way?

"McKay!"

Rodney sighed, and dropped his pack, lifting out his journal first. He tucked it into his shirt and realized Sheppard was staring at him with an amused grin. "It's for technical details," he said defensively.

Sheppard nodded, still smiling, and finished dumping all the items he had deemed unnecessary. Rodney looked at his pile to gauge what he should dump and didn't miss the fact that the Major had kept his ammo and med kit in his bag, priorities for a soldier. He'd keep his equipment, priorities for a scientist.

"Ready?"

McKay nodded, and slung his pack back on his shoulders, amazed at how much lighter it felt. When they had first begun expeditions he'd thought the weight of the pack was going to permanently cripple him. He'd made the mistake of making a wisecrack to that effect. The next trip out he'd realized Sheppard had doubled the weight. He'd accepted the Major's maneuver without complaint but had loaded Sheppard's pack with all the _artifacts_ he had decided important to bring back to Atlantis. He'd enjoyed tossing each one over the balcony hours after gating home. He knew Sheppard suspected it was a set-up but he had let it go and an unspoken truce had been present since that day.

He realized John was all ready scaling the tree. He took a deep breath, _relaxed_. "Yeah, I'm ready."

It didn't take more than a few minutes for them to reach the cord Sheppard had secured on the main tree trunk. He could make out the first foot of the blue nylon before it tapered off into the haze of rain and steel gray sky. "Hand over hand." Rodney said, more for the comfort of hearing the instructions out loud then needing confirmation.

"Right, and whatever you do McKay, don't let go," Sheppard warned.

"I can assure you, Major, you would have to physically rip my fingers off this rope before I'd let it go." McKay took another steadying breath, and grabbed the cord with both hands, uncomfortably aware of how wet the cord had become. He felt the slick fibers taut against his palms. "Here goes nothing," he muttered, and swung his legs up, latching his ankles around the rope and inching out from the minimal protection the tree provided.

He hadn't gone far when he realized how badly the weather had deteriorated. Gusts rocked his body like a stray leaf caught up in a fall storm. He tightened his fingers more than he thought possible and tried to steady the trembling in his legs. He arched his head back trying to see how much farther but couldn't see anything other than dark shapes in the upside down world ahead of him.

McKay's world soon narrowed to hand over hand…slide…hand over hand…slide. His arms trembled, his legs threatened to release and his palms burned from the friction. Water seeped into the crevices of his nostrils and blinded him. Hand over hand, and slide. He reached his hand again and met with a metal tip. _Metal?_ He almost cried with the relief of knowing he had made it. It took almost more control than he had in his muscles, but he managed to right himself and perch in the branch. He swallowed, trying to gather strength and depressed the radio. "Major, I'm here, go."

Sheppard heard the static echo from his receiver and made out the word go amidst the steady drumming of the rain and growling of the river. He gave the cord a test pull, and depressed his radio, "I'm coming!" he shouted, trying to hear his own voice above the din.

A strong gust tugged the rope in his hands and he clung tighter and began the slow progression towards McKay. He remembered doing this in boot camp. Everyone had to tackle the confidence course, and one of the first water obstacles was a rope you had to cross, just like this. The guy in front of him had frozen and hung in the middle, leaving Sheppard stuck hanging behind him. He'd hollered for the guy to move, tried to encourage him, but after a few minutes his biceps had begun to burn and he started yelling at the guy to drop. The Training Instructors, (TI for short), had shouted obscenities and something about the guy being a girl before he'd eventually fallen into the water, the splash drenching Sheppard's back. He'd started inching his way towards the end of the rope and safety but the minutes of hanging had taken their toll and just inches before reaching his goal, he'd felt his fingers give, and down he went into the cold water. He'd come up spluttering from the shock, and pissed at having to complete the rest of the course soaked. He knew that having to complete the run with the extra weight of a waterlogged battle dress uniform was going to be tough.

He'd come up out of that water hazard and started to give the cadet a piece of his mind when the TI had separated them, and made him do push-ups. Later, the Sergeant had pulled him aside and told him the team was only as strong as their weakest link and he'd better make damn sure the next time his squad did the course the other cadet would make it across. John did. He'd learned a lesson that day, one of many to come, but it was the start of what ultimately gave him a black mark in the promotion ranks and shuffled out to McMurdo like yesterday's leftovers. He had gone back for that weakest link and he'd do it again.

Sheppard realized he was over halfway. He could hear McKay shouting support through the driving winds and rain. His muscles were burning. He knew Beckett would be furious if he knew this was the light duty he'd cleared John for. It was supposed to be a simple trip out and back, nothing strenuous. The cord seemed to slacken and John couldn't keep from shouting, "McKay!"

Rodney felt the cord slip also. He had one hand holding on, trying to steady the path for the Major. He turned, panicked, to find where the spear point was embedded in the branch. He felt the spot with dull fingers and realized it was pulling loose. "Hurry Major!" He hoped John heard him. He tried to wrap his body around the trunk, looping his arm around the cord. If the cord gave, Rodney hoped he could keep it from falling, at least long enough to help Sheppard.

John started again, faster now, knowing that the rigging was coming apart. He glanced down but couldn't see anything. Another gust blew into him and he felt the cord start to give. He could almost see McKay. "Let go!" He could see that McKay had looped his arm around in vain hopes of keeping him from going down. _Damn it! Didn't he realize that was only going to succeed in taking them both into the raging water_ _below?_

McKay heard Sheppard but shook his head slowly, in resignation, if the Major was going down, then so was he. He felt it give, and his arm was yanked painfully forward and he felt himself falling. "Major!" he screamed.

"McKay!" John felt the cord give and felt his body falling, then the sharp jerk as McKay was dragged down with him. He felt the cold water envelop him. It felt like someone had submerged him in a frozen lake. He wondered at the frigidness of the water, before he realized it was dragging him downward instead of letting him bob up to the surface, and it was as strong of a current as he'd feared.

He was holding onto the rope and the knowledge sunk in dimly as his awareness began to fade to a pleasant blackness from the lack of oxygen. He pulled on the rope and prayed McKay was able to do the same. The water was slamming him back, tumbling him about like a pebble in a swift stream, and he felt something slam into his leg underneath the icy water. His fingers slipped and he knew that was it. He was dead. _I'm sorry McKay_, he thought, before he was dragged under for good.


	3. Lost in the Woods

AN: Again, another edited version, thanks to Bastet and Gaffer for the Beta. Finally, chapter four is off to the two and after editing it will be up in short order, so coming soon! Thanks for the continued reviews, it keeps me inspired.

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Chapter Three**

**Lost in the Woods

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Sheppard was holding his breath, letting out small amounts of air to try and maintain calm. If there was any hope of getting out of this alive, he had to keep himself from panicking. He felt his arms drag along the bottom of the riverbed, and then felt himself released from the current's hold. The water had dragged him under like an incensed shark, but like an animal toying with it's prey, it spit him back out, and he felt his body begin to rise. He released another small puff of air, feeling the bubbles tickle against his skin as they escaped to the surface.

He wasn't going to make it. He pushed out the last bit of remaining oxygen and waited for the foggy warmth that a drowning death brings on. There were worse ways to die. Burning alive, gunshot to the gut, those are painful ways to meet the big guy upstairs. Drowning was peaceful. He'd heard stories that you get all warm and cozy feeling and just drift off, never to wake again. Didn't sound so bad.

Sheppard's body was suddenly jerked by an impact and reflexively he grabbed hold. It was a tree branch, partially submerged in the flooded river. He tugged forward and pushed his head up, and gasped long and hard when his head broke the surface. He choked on water and air as both swam into his mouth. He shoved thoughts of a peaceful death to the side, maybe some day, but not this day. Muscles starved for oxygen fought to obey his commands and he had to hang briefly to get his bearings.

When he'd recovered from his near death, he realized Rodney wasn't around. "McKay!" he cried, hoping if the man was near he'd respond. He strained to hear over the raucous catcalls of the water, and thought maybe he heard the higher pitched tones of a human voice.

He surveyed his position and realized while he was downstream from his attempted crossing, he had latched on to a tree on the same side he'd been trying to reach, which was the good news. The bad news was the force had yanked his boots off his feet, ripped his pack from his shoulders, and he didn't know if he had the strength to scale the branch into the tree and get onto solid ground. In all his life he didn't think he'd ever been this physically exhausted. John knew hanging around wouldn't improve his condition, probably the opposite, so if he was going to get out of this, he'd better start moving now. He needed to get out of this tree and try to find McKay. Gritting his teeth, he pulled one tired hand up and stretched as high as he could manage, tugging his body upwards, trying not to mind the scrapes of rough bark against numb skin as he slid towards his goal.

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McKay retched again, feeling the water lurch out of his mouth and splatter on the wet ground, d_isgusting_ he thought as he gagged. The initial impact with the river had knocked the breath out of his lungs and he'd inhaled water instead of air. He'd lost sight of the Major, and kicked into survival mode, desperately struggling to get to the edge of the flooded river, and to safety. Something big and bulky had impacted his chest and caused him to swallow another mouthful of the murky water. By the time he'd managed to drag himself onto the shore and away from the engorged body of water, he was throwing up what felt like half the river.

When the cramps had passed, he'd fallen back onto his butt, and rested his head on his knees. This was a nightmare. He'd lost Sheppard, didn't know where he was, and could only hope he wasn't dead. _So much for heroic last acts_, he thought angrily. He'd tried to save John only to screw it up and almost kill himself in the process.

Rodney raised his head with a jerk. _Was that…?_ He thought he heard Sheppard call his name. "Major!" He tried to holler as loud as possible but his throat was sore from his bout with the river water and came out squeaky.

He held still listening for any reply but the only sounds interpreted by his mind were the signs of angry nature all around him. The wind howled, and the river screamed and amidst it all he realized that if the Major was alive, he needed to get up and go search for him. He could only pray that they'd both landed on this side of the swollen riverbank.

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Sheppard was on his feet. Tired, reduced to nothing more than a shirt and pants, but alive and standing. He'd made it and now he only hoped he could find McKay. He didn't have any weapons, flashlights or even a radio. The rain had tapered off to the occasional sprinkle but night had arrived and taken the last vestiges of light to bed. He knew the logical plan was to find a spot as far away from the river as he could manage and hole up for the night. It wasn't cold, that was the good news, but he was soaked to the skin and had a hard time seeing his hand in front of his face, that was the bad news.

"Conditions could be worse," he muttered, needing to hear the sound of his voice. "Not much worse, but worse."

A far away howl of an alien animal caused him to groan with frustration. At least it sounded far away. That was something. He took a tentative step forward, keeping the sound of the river as a guide so he didn't follow a crooked path. He felt the sharp poke from twigs and deadfall and hoped there wasn't worse down there, like a bug. "_Don't_ think of bugs," he murmured, having an unpleasant flashback to the tic-wraith that had caused more trouble than he wanted to remember.

When he looked back at his decision to move through the dark in search of McKay, he knew it was a bad one. He'd made little progress and all he had to show for it was sore feet. If it was even possible, the night had become darker, and the temperature drop left him shivering. It was time to call it quits and hope McKay was taking care of his own needs. Sheppard felt forward and found a tree that was thick and could offer a little shelter. He pulled himself in till he was up against the living hulk in the black night, sliding down against it. He huddled with his knees drawn up and wrapped his arms around as tightly as he could manage to try and conserve heat, his wet clothes bracingly cold against his skin when he moved into a new position. He'd never felt more alone.

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McKay let out a frustrated sigh. This wasn't working. He'd started searching in the general direction he thought Sheppard's voice had come from, but now he was beginning to think it had been a figment of his hopeful imagination. Sheppard was probably dead, his corpse floating downstream, and beginning to bloat with water. _Nice visual, Rodney_, he thought crossly. He couldn't help it. He always had that doom and gloom side to his personality. He was a pessimist; the cup wasn't half full, it was half-empty, they weren't barely alive, they were almost dead.

He stumbled into something solid and cursed, rubbing his tender nose. This was ridiculous. He couldn't see the forest for the trees, literally. He was lucky he hadn't broken something or stumbled into real danger. _Real danger_, that was a joke. Sheppard was gone, he had lost all sense of direction and he had no idea how he'd find the gate when morning arrived, if it arrived-he'd probably get eaten while he slept, and he'd lost his GDO to send the signal through anyway. He was so screwed.

He put his back against the same tree that had bruised his nose, thinking it seemed ironic that he could blame the tree for his black eye and get the Major out of trouble for punching him earlier. He dropped to the ground and leaned his head back, letting his eyes close. He'd never felt more alone.

* * *

McKay woke to the soft whispers of a subdued river. He frowned, his eyes still closed, as his mind reassembled the memories of last night's disastrous events. He groaned as the events played out in his mind like a slide show and he became aware of the damp clothing, and rough ground against his body.

He cracked his eyes and saw that daylight had reclaimed the planet. A smoldering fog lay low over the water, and the sky was the color of molten silver. He heard a snuffling sound behind him and froze. He wasn't alone. He waited in the stillness for the sound to repeat, and it did. Something was breathing nearby. He'd heard some animal howling in the night. Had it found him when the water level dropped enough to cross?

He slid himself forward, very slowly, and cringed when a twig snapped inadvertently under his knee. The breathing hitched, and paused, then settled back into an even pattern. Whatever it was, it was asleep. McKay looked around the wide tree trunk, "Major!" he exclaimed in delighted surprise.

Sheppard jumped awake, startled by the unexpected calling of his name behind him. "McKay?"

"You're alive!" McKay grabbed Sheppard, shaking the man hard enough that his teeth rattled. "Your corpse isn't bloating in the water!"

Sheppard was half-heartedly being tossed by McKay, but pulled back with disgust. "Bloated corpse?"

"Sorry…imagination." McKay scratched his head absently. "You know how it is."

Sheppard nodded. "Yeah, sure," he checked Rodney out looking for any noticeable injuries. "How'd you find me?"

"I didn't," McKay chuckled. "It's kind of funny, actually, but I think we decided to sleep on the same tree last night."

"You mean you were there all along?" Sheppard asked, dumbfounded.

McKay nodded, still grinning with the relief of finding the Major alive.

"Funny." Sheppard didn't actually think it was funny at all, more like sadistic. He'd drifted off last night uncertain if McKay was alive and he'd been beside him all night. Someone had a sick sense of humor.

"Like your uniform." McKay appraised Sheppard's condition. No footwear, scrapes all over his body, but otherwise he seemed unharmed.

"Thanks, thinking about recommending it to Dr. Weir," Sheppard cracked. "Speaking of which, I'm ready to go home."

"About that-" McKay grimaced. "I lost my GDO."

"I have a spare."

"You have a spare?" McKay looked at him like he had grown an extra head. "When did you get a spare? I told Elizabeth we only had so many of these things and she needed to be careful."

"McKay."

"Of all the irresponsible stupid acts, does she realize that it takes parts and time to build new ones, and the new ones haven't even been tested--".

"McKay!" Sheppard called louder.

Rodney frowned, "What?"

"This is exactly why I asked for a spare. I didn't want anyone stranded off world." John explained.

McKay sobered, "Oh, good point."

"Thank you." Sheppard sighed. Despite getting some sleep he was still tired and his muscles ached from the strain. "Could we go now?"

"One problem Major, where _is_ the Stargate?" McKay wasn't certain how far downstream they'd gone last night. He had never been good with directions. As a kid in school the one area he'd failed miserably at was geography. He could read schematics, figure out currents and complicated machinery, but give him a map and a compass and he was in trouble.

Sheppard smiled soft and slow. "I think I can find it."

McKay rolled his eyes. "Fine, lead the way Pocahontas."

"Pocahontas was a _girl_."

"Your point?"

The two friends walked away from the now innocently babbling baby of a river, the only signs of the monster it had been was torn limbs and caked debris. Shoulder to shoulder, torn clothing and bedraggled bodies, they made their way through the forest. The voices filtered through the air, Sheppard's reply muffled as they got farther away from the river. Home didn't seem far away after all.


	4. Gate Tricks

AN: Nothing much to say but moothril, wanted to answer your question, and unfortuneately, I don't know. I can tell you this, it's going to be longer than Keep Your Friends Close. I only begin with a plot, and then I flesh out the adventure around specific events so I rarely know how many chapters until it's completed.**

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Chapter Four

**Gate Tricks

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John watched as McKay depressed the gate address for Atlantis into the DHD's console. It hadn't taken long to find their way back to the gate, but his feet were feeling the lack of footwear. McKay had managed to hang on to his pack in their incident with the river and had offered a pair of wet wool socks. He'd taken him up on his offer, but the slight protection was a trade off for a distinctly nasty feeling. Still, the clinging wool was preferable to doing serious damage on the trek towards home. He'd had Rodney walk in front hoping his boots would squash anything that had the potential to puncture his feet, and he supposed it had been a success because his feet had survived.

"Major?"

John pulled his eyes away from the mesmerizing effect of the lighted symbols, "McKay?"

"Are you going to send our IDC, or were you planning on waiting for the GDO to do it for you?" McKay had snapped his question but he was examining Sheppard closely, surprised by the man's apparent lack of attention. He supposed Sheppard was tired, they both were, but it wasn't like John to become unfocused on his surroundings.

Sheppard shrugged and started to unbuckle his belt. He'd strapped the spare GDO to his thigh, hoping that it was the last place an enemy would look. The small innocuous lump coincided to one of the thick side pockets on his pant leg, disguising its presence.

"What are you doing?" McKay asked, staring at him like he'd lost his mind.

Sheppard pulled his pants far enough down the right side to expose the strap, "Where'd you think the GDO was?"

"I didn't Major," Rodney stepped away from the DHD. "Just…send the code," he said tiredly.

"Working on it." Sheppard adjusted his buckle and punched his code into the small hand-held machine. "After you," Sheppard extended a hand indicating McKay to go first.

He watched as Rodney was swallowed by the cerulean event horizon. He was right behind the doctor, thinking about a pair of dry socks and a long, long nap. He stepped out on the other side and frowned. "McKay, is it me, or is this not Atlantis?"

Rodney was standing a few feet ahead of him, mouth gaping in surprise, for what they were seeing was inexplicable. "I dialed Atlantis," McKay stated, as if reassuring himself of the fact.

"You did, I watched you." Sheppard confirmed. The sight that greeted his eyes when he emerged from the gate hadn't been the familiar burnished metallic walls and engraved stairs of the Atlantis gateroom. Instead, there was a desert vista laid out before him, with cresting dunes and ripples flowing through the ocean of sand. The bronzed granules radiated heat that left no question of the inhospitable conditions wherever the gate had deposited them. "Gate malfunction?" he asked.

McKay's head jerked with a negative. "If it was, it wasn't one I'm familiar with." He approached the DHD and stared at it for a few minutes. "That's odd."

Sheppard approached him, and stared at the symbols. "What?"

Rodney gestured at the console. "If I didn't know better, I'd think I was looking at the same DHD."

John's expertise wasn't the Stargate, so Rodney's confusion meant about as much as if he told Rodney that the Jumper was the same vehicle as a Jumper. They _were_ the same as far as Sheppard knew. "Isn't that normal?"

McKay pulled the finger from his mouth where he'd been chewing his nail distractedly, "Normal?" McKay regarded Sheppard with a look that reminded him when his mother would explain something to him when he was eight years old. "No, not at all. Actually, each gate is unique, like a snowflake or a fingerprint. No two DHD's are exactly alike."

Sheppard felt fatigue wash over him like a hot flash on a menopausal woman. He ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it further than it already was. "Just fix it, McKay."

McKay barked a laugh. "Fix it? Major, I don't even know what _happened_." He stared at the DHD in frustration. "It's like asking someone to find their way home if you kidnap them, blindfolded, and drop them in the middle of a forest in God knows where land. There is nothing to go by, nothing to help figure-"

"-I got it McKay. What do you suggest we do?" Sheppard interrupted his ranting.

"I don't have a clue." McKay said, running a hand over the symbols. "Not much of one, anyway."

Sheppard glared. "Give me what you've got."

"We can try Atlantis again."

Sheppard considered the idea. He was sweating profusely and they'd only been here for ten minutes at the most. They couldn't stay here. "Do you think it'll work?"

"No," McKay admitted. "But we can't stay here."

McKay's echoes of his own thoughts decided his course. They had nothing to lose and everything to gain. "Dial it up."

He watched as McKay entered the familiar address. The wormhole connected. He waited for a beat of five then radioed in after submitting their code. "Atlantis, this is Major Sheppard, do you read?"

"Atlantis, this is Weir, what happened? You dialed in but no one came through the wormhole."

Sheppard sagged with relief. They had connected to home. "Roger that Atlantis, we're not sure but somehow we were deposited on another planet. We're coming through, _again_."

"You have a go Major, we'll be waiting." Weir replied, her voice soothing Sheppard's frayed nerves. This had been a hell of an expedition. He never expected things to go so spectacularly bad, and yet somehow they always did.

John looked across at Rodney, "Ready?"

McKay nodded, and stepped through ahead of Sheppard again. John trailed after, hoping this time he'd see the right place when he walked out on the other side.

He didn't. He looked at his surroundings with growing disgust. "Son of a bitch!"

McKay was standing by the DHD when he arrived, already dropping his pack in preparation of searching out answers for why this was happening, for they hadn't arrived at Atlantis, but back at their original departure point.

"What is going on?" John demanded.

"I don't _know_." McKay snapped, upset with his inability to explain or predict the events. "I'm working on it. This shouldn't _be_ happening."

"We were connected with Atlantis, right?"

McKay nodded absently. "Yes, but you have to understand, wormhole physics is mostly theoretical at this point, all we know is what we've learned in the years the Stargate program has been around…we're talking a miniscule amount of information," he jerked his head, clearly frustrated. "Look, the fact is this could be anything, and I don't even know what I'm looking for."

John felt the impact of his words like a physical blow. He understood that McKay was smart, and he also understood he wasn't a miracle worker, yet on some base level he expected McKay to always pull that proverbial rabbit out of the hat. He was in charge of the mission but he couldn't contribute to a situation with the gate, not like this. He had the Ancient gene, but he wasn't an Ancient. "Dial Atlantis," he ordered.

"Why? It's not going to work." McKay replied.

"We need to let them know where we are and it wouldn't hurt to get Zelenka working on the problem from their end." Sheppard took a deep breath. "Besides that, maybe they can send supplies through. I'm going to mold if I don't change clothes soon."

McKay grimaced, "Thanks for the visual."

"You're welcome."

Rodney's lips twitched with a slight smile, _humor-does the body good_, he thought ironically. He depressed the familiar symbols and waited while the wormhole exploded outwards before retreating to its circular prison.

Sheppard again sent his signal and waited, before issuing the understatement of the day. "Atlantis, we have a problem."

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Sheppard was resting against one of the rolled sleeping bags that had been sent through the gate, accompanied by none other than Doctor Beckett. Sheppard had exploded on Carson and Doctor Weir, mad as a hornet that Weir had sent him into an unknown situation. 

After he'd relayed to Atlantis the problem and explained they needed gear, Weir had finagled the events with the river out of him. How she'd managed that, he still didn't know, but it seemed before he could reconcile giving up more information than he'd intended, Beckett was coming out the gate followed by a cart of supplies, proving their supposition that the problem was on this side of the gate.

He and Rodney had to endure a thorough check-up by the Doctor, and while Rodney had been given the all-clear to work on the gate, Carson had told Sheppard he was running a slight temperature and he'd better stay down and let his body fight off whatever virus was causing it. Beckett guessed his dunk in the river had left his immune system struggling to recoup, letting a simple Earth based annoying cold grab a foothold into his system.

He didn't feel bad, drained really, but it had been a tiring twenty-four hours. Truthfully, he was thankful for Beckett's presence. It was comforting to know they weren't totally cut-off from Atlantis.

He turned his wrist slightly, and checked the time on his watch, before he realized his watch was gone, a victim of his battle with the river. He should've remembered that. He looked up and noticed Beckett watching him.

"How are you feeling Major?" Carson asked.

"Never felt better." Sheppard lied. He saw the falsehood register on Carson's face. Couldn't blame a guy for trying. "What time is it?"

"Since the last time you asked?" McKay snapped from under the DHD. He was lying amidst a jumble of wires and crystals.

"I'm bored. I don't even have my book to read." Sheppard should've asked Weir to send his War and Peace through with the other supplies; he'd have to remember that for the next time they contacted Atlantis.

"Don't go borrowing trouble, Major, a little boredom is a good thing." Carson admonished.

Sheppard paused, overcome by a sneeze threatening to explode. The feeling passed, and he started to reply, only to have the sneeze break through and rattle his head. "Ouch." He hadn't had a cold since they arrived in the Pegasus Galaxy. "Colds suck," he stated emphatically, taking the proffered tissue from Beckett's hand. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

McKay had pulled his head out from under the DHD. "He's not going to pass that around, or anything?"

Beckett looked at McKay with exasperation. "Colds are highly contagious Rodney. I would be surprised if you weren't already infected."

McKay shot Sheppard a dirty look. "Great."

Sheppard regarded McKay nonchalantly, "I was taught it was nice to share."

"Toys!" McKay exclaimed. "Not bugs, and other contagious…_stuff_."

Sheppard grinned, and shifted farther back into the soft bag. If he couldn't find anything to do, pulling McKay's chain would have to suffice. "Just remember, cover your mouth when you sneeze."

"Have you ever heard of practice what you preach?" McKay said waspishly.

"Those who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones." Sheppard retorted.

"What goes around, comes around"

"Do unto others-"

"Shut up!" Beckett stood between the two men. "Both of you just…be quiet, _please_." Carson rubbed his head as if he were trying to chase a headache away.

Neither man said another word, but Sheppard glared at McKay, getting the last word even if it was an unspoken word. His actions didn't go unnoticed, but McKay made some type of gesture as he slid under the DHD, and John figured it was probably some type of Canadian insult.

A few minutes ticked by before John couldn't take it anymore. "What time is it?"

"Shut up!" Beckett and McKay chorused together.

John felt a small pang of remorse. He knew he was being childish, and he knew he was driving everyone crazy, but he wasn't good when he was sick. He never had been, in fact, his Mom had occasionally threatened bodily harm during that one year he'd had the flu…and she was talking about doing it to herself, not him.

He needed to take a nap. That was an idea. He could sleep through McKay pulling the solution out of his ass, like he typically did, and they'd wake him up when it was time to return to Atlantis. Sounded like a plan to him. He closed his eyes, not seeing Beckett's face reflect utter relief. He had started to doze when the sharp howls of animals startled him back into reality.

He sat up, reaching for his P90, and scanned the line of trees surrounding the clearing where the gate was located. The howls echoed again, louder and more desperate. Sheppard couldn't fight the shiver of fear crawl through him. Whatever the animals were, they were near.


	5. Fur and Spice

**AN: Thanks a bunch for the reviews and what's really bad, I didn't even think of that last chapter ending as a cliffhanger, but you know, what's the fun if I don't leave you wanting more?**

**Thanks again Gaffer for the beta, it's helping more than I imagined possible!**

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**Chapter Five**

**Fur and Spice, and Everything Nice, That's what Major's are Made of

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Rodney poked his head back out from under the DHD, sliding his body forward enough to stare at the tree line in the same general direction of the animal cries. His eyes scanned for movement before he turned to look at Major Sheppard, who was also searching for the cause.

"Do they sound nearer?" McKay asked Sheppard. He remembered thesimilar sounds from their night spent huddled under the same tree, though neither knew the other man was near.

Sheppard held up his hand, signaling McKay to be quiet. He got to his knees; one hand braced on the spongy ground, the other holding the P90, and cocked his head to listen. The baying sound erupted again from all around. John was trying to pin a location on the animals but it was like the cricket effect. You can hear them cricking and rubbing those legs of theirs together, but you can never quite figure out where the insects are. They sound as if they are behind, in front, and to the side, depending on which way you turn your head.

"Beckett," Sheppard whispered. He waved for the Doctor to get closer. Rodney followed. He wanted to get everyone together until he knew the situation was safe. Whatever it was out there, it sounded like there was more than one. Following that supposition, he couldn't help but think of a pack of wolves. He wasn't ready for any of them to become dinner for alien canines.

Beckett was glancing at the area in front of him, where the thick-forested trees came together and created a shadow of a threat when coupled with the unknown yipping. "Major, I think I see something."

Sheppard followed Beckett's gaze and stared hard, trying to pick out the slightest movement or sound with his senses fully tuned. _There_, he thought he saw a slight change in the thicket low to the ground, no more than you would chalk to a slight breeze, except there wasn't a slight breeze.

The animals must have realized he saw them because as soon as his eyes had picked out the incoming intruders, they erupted from the forest in a rapid burst of muscle and rippling gray and black fur.

"Stay together!" Sheppard shouted, aiming his weapon towards the sky above the animal's heads, and pulling the trigger. The echoed retort of weapons fire gave the alien wolves pause, and they hesitated, breaking mid-stride, but only slowing. "Fire, McKay!" John hollered. He hoped the continued loud sound would frighten the beasts away.

Both men emptied their clips and it didn't take long before the wolves broke off their attack and headed for the safety of the woods, like a stampede of bulls making way around an obstacle. They weren't gone but they were too scared to approach. For how long, that was the question.

"Do you think we're safe?" Beckett croaked. He was white as a sheet and out of his element.

"I think we're on the lunch menu," Sheppard retorted.

"Oh, wonderful," Rodney swore, tilting his head up towards the sky. "As if we didn't have enough trouble!" he shouted as if speaking to some deity.

John was running scenarios through his mind and what he was coming up with wasn't good. There were too many of those things, and while the noise may have worked once, it probably wouldn't work twice. When their buddies started falling to the bullets it might buy more time, but the likely effect was they'd continue around their fallen compatriots and swarm them faster than the three men could shoot them down. The animals would be back, and his bet was sooner rather than later. He knew they were hanging just beyond the tree line, waiting to regroup.

Sheppard's mouth thinned with his decision. "Pack it up," he ordered.

Rodney gaped at John. "What do you mean, pack it up? In case you don't remember, the gate is broken. We could end up who knows where," McKay's voice was rising with the increased adrenalin. "And that's if we're lucky. We might wind up going splat against a blocked gate, or choke to death in vacuum."

Beckett was inclined to agree with McKay. Going through the gate always gave him a momentary fear that he'd never rematerialize on the other side, especially since that lecture Grodin had spouted when the Major and his team had been trapped in the event horizon. It was bad enough when you knew what to expect on the other side, but this was an unknown. He'd rather face the danger they knew over the danger they didn't know.

Sheppard stepped towards McKay. "They're going to come back, McKay, and when they do, they'll overwhelm us, and then there won't be any bodies left for Atlantis to retrieve. Out there, we have a chance. We stay here, we die." John didn't feel like mincing words, or easing McKay into the reality of their predicament.

McKay didn't back down. "You don't know that, Major. It might be hours before they attack. I could have the gate fixed, and we'd be long gone before they come back."

Sheppard's lips tightened even more. "Are you close to fixing it?" he asked abruptly.

Rodney frowned. "No," he answered truthfully, and with a level of irritation, "but that's not the point."

"You're right, that's not the point. The _point_ is, those wolf-things out there are thinking they'd like to have a little Shep snack, or maybe even the McKay meal, do you want to give it to them?" Sheppard snarled. He was getting more than weary of arguing every decision with McKay.

"Are you implying that I'm fat?"

Sheppard paused, confused by Rodney's question. "What?"

"You said Shep _snack_ and McKay _meal_, implying I would be more filling."

Sheppard threw his hands in the air. "That's it," he turned to Beckett. "He's certifiable, this is proof. We're about to die and he's asking if I think he's _fat_." Sheppard said incredulously.

"It's a perfectly normal defensive reaction." Rodney defended.

Beckett's head was turning back and forth from Sheppard to McKay like a ping-pong ball, and he was feeling a little like Goldilocks must have felt when confronted by the three bears. "You both realize we are about to be eaten?" Beckett interjected.

"I know!" Sheppard shouted at Beckett before rounding on McKay. "There is no more discussion, pack it up. I'm not going to see your half-chewed remains in my nightmares for the rest of my life."

Rodney raised a finger and opened his mouth to start a reply before Sheppard gritted his teeth and gave him a look that would peel the skin off an onion. "Fine, fine." he gave up and started reluctantly tossing tools into his pack. "If we all die wherever the gate deposits us, do _not_ complain to me."

John didn't reply because he was busy watching for the return of the animals. Carson had begun stuffing his supplies in his pack, and helped Rodney finish the last of his gear. John heard nothing, and that bothered him. There's a certain absence of sound when predators are nearby. The smaller animals in the food chain scurry for cover, underground or in the trees, and they go absolutely quiet, hoping they will go unnoticed by the bigger fish in the sea, and the big fish were converging on their location.

"Ready?" Sheppard hissed. He was getting a very uneasy feeling.

"Yes, but-" Rodney began, only to get cut off by the Major.

"-No _but_, just dial the gate." Sheppard ordered.

McKay shrugged but it wasn't a shrug of 'whatever', more along the lines of 'it's your death warrant'; Sheppard only hoped he was making the right choice. Beckett slung his pack on his shoulders and grabbed an armload of supplies. Sheppard had his pack on his shoulders, but he'd have to rely on McKay to get the rest of their gear. He had to keep his arms free to cover their exit. He wasn't going to take any chances, not even for a minute.

No sooner had McKay depressed the first symbol then the trees erupted in a crushing wave of movement speeding directly towards them. "Dial faster!" Sheppard hollered. He gathered his aim and started pelting the creatures, no longer bothering shooting above their heads. He knew the noise wouldn't deter them this time.

He turned in a half circle, spraying death upon the front-runners of the pack. Bodies crumpled to the ground, their momentum rolling them forward despite a lack of life left in their legs, tripping up their friends that were close behind. The wolves were gaining ground fast even with the growing barrier of corpses, and Sheppard realized they might not make it.

"Faster, or we won't have to worry about dying on the other side of that gate!" he urged above the echoes of the machine gun.

"Almost there." McKay said, concentrating on the DHD and not the approaching danger. "Got it!"

Carson had taken the GDO from Sheppard earlier and now punched in the code, silently hoping the gate would deliver them where it was supposed to this time. "It's clear!" he called, fighting to keep his voice steady.

"Go, go!" Sheppard instructed, continuing to take down as many of the wolves as he could, while backing towards McKay and Beckett.

They all ran for the gate, Sheppard covering their backs. It was going to be close. The animals were within jumping distance when McKay and Carson breached the event horizon. Sheppard turned and dived, hoping like hell the things wouldn't follow them through. Most of the pack didn't, but just after Sheppard had made his jump for safety, the nearest alien wolf made a leap for Sheppard, and connected against the Major's back, plunging both into the wormhole. Sheppard barely had time to register the events before the breathtaking cold of wormhole travel sucked him into its chilling embrace. He was in trouble.

Rodney and Carson had stumbled through and found they were not back in Atlantis (again), but they were also not in the desert world that Sheppard and McKay had been taken to the first time. Before they had time to take in their surroundings, Sheppard was thrown forward, out of the event horizon, straight into Rodney, along with an alien wolf that was as scared as it was mad.

The three went rolling forward, and Sheppard was thinking if he got out of this alive, it'd be a miracle. He felt claws scrape his arm as the wolf tried to grab for leverage. They came to a stop and John was shoving off from Rodney, trying to separate from him before he got bit. He was largely successful, and McKay was rolled to his left with the wolf to his right. He cocked his hand back and punched the thing head on as hard as he could. It fell back, momentarily stunned.

Sheppard used that brief amount of time to unsheathe his knife and drive it into the wolf's belly. It started screeching like an insane woman, and writhing from the death throes. Soon the screeching settled into small irregular whimpers, before ceasing altogether.

"Bloody hell." Carson swore. "I don't want to do that again."

"You?" Sheppard stood up on shaky knees, and wiped a bloody hand across his face, trying to clear the gore that had sprayed him with the initial plunge of the knife, but only managing to smear it worse.

"You know what I mean, son." Beckett said. "Rodney?"

Both men turned to the limp form lying on the ground. Sheppard jogged to his side, and knelt down, searching for an injury and a pulse. He found a strong reassuring beat and couldn't find any sign that the wolf had gotten a hold of him in the initial struggle. "I think he passed out."

"Right." Beckett sighed, before turning his attention on Sheppard. "And what about you?"

"Scratches." John stood up, and studied his arms and legs not totally certain of where exactly the wolf had gotten a hold of him. "It sure packed a hell of a punch." he said, knowing that he would be sore for days to come from that hit in his back.

Beckett didn't take his word for it. He guided John to the ground beside McKay and retrieved his medical supplies. Sheppard tried to protest, but Carson had that look about him, and he wasn't going to take no for an answer. John figured he'd humor the doctor, and part of it was the fact that the scratches burned like hell. That thing had to have had claws the size of a Kodiak bear.

McKay stirred and his eyes flickered before gradually staying open. "We're alive?" he asked, somewhat dubiously. He then caught sight of Sheppard, covered in blood, sitting beside him. "Some of us are, at any rate. What happened to you?"

"I saved your hide, that's what happened to me." John said. As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted them. It wasn't McKay's fault the animal had gotten a hold of him before he'd made it through, or that Sheppard was beginning to feel so tired he could barely sit up, and it wasn't Rodney's fault that he'd agreed to come on this expedition in the first place. That was General O'Neill's fault, and he'd personally take the time to account for every single mishap the next time he saw the General  hoping, of course, there'd be a next time. At the rate things were going in the Pegasus galaxy, that was looking like a long shot.

"My hide? That thing wasn't attached to _my_ hide coming out of the gate." Rodney snapped. "You know, this is typical for you."

John raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Every time something goes wrong, you blame me!"

"That's because every time something goes wrong, it's your fault!" John shouted.

"Not every time, Major. You've gotten to enjoy that distinction as well, at least once that I know of." Rodney was talking about the incident when Sheppard had broke quarantine, and it was an incident that continued to be a sore spot with John.

"Shut up, McKay."

Carson had gathered up everything he needed and was now standing over the two men. "Both of you need to shut up; neither one of you has behaved spectacularly, and you'd do well to remember that. Major, give me that arm." Carson instructed gruffly.

Subdued, Sheppard held out his right hand, surprised to see it shake slightly from the effort. Carson took it gently, and eased it onto his knee, giving the Major some support. He cut his sleeve up to his shoulder and examined it critically. "These were just scratches?" he asked finally.

John looked down at the throbbing appendage and nodded. Beckett whistled. "I'd hate to see what damage his teeth would've done."

Sheppard was fighting against a rising wave of dizziness. The edges of his vision began to gray and he knew he was going to lose. He started to topple only to feel himself caught by McKay, and eased to the ground. From far away he heard Rodney ask, "Is he all right?" And then his world faded.

Rodney looked at Sheppard, surprised at how pale his face had become. "What's wrong with him?" he demanded.

Beckett gave McKay a reassuring touch. "A bit of shock to his system. He is going to be okay Rodney."

McKay looked again at Sheppard's face and was relieved to see some color returning, a small flush of life indicating that Beckett was telling the truth. He couldn't help the small crook of a smile as a thought hit him. "Looks like the wolf opted for a bit of a Shep snack over the McKay meal after all." Beckett's groan eased the last of his worries about Sheppard's health.

"Rodney, you would never make it as a comedian."

"Just fix the Major."


	6. Process of Elimination

AN: PurpleYin,animals are a big part of this story. Actually, they are an integral part of the plot, but perhaps not quite in the way you might expect. It'd be interesting to know if anyone has guessed where this is going, but don't say it out loud if you have. Thanks as always for the reviews! NebbyJ, the different biomes are also a huge part of the plot, as everyone will begin to see in this chapter.

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**Chapter Six**

**Process of Elimination**

* * *

"How much longer before he wakes up?"

"Rodney, you can't rush these things. He'll wake up when his body is good and ready. I told you, he's _fine_, so stop worrying."

John listened to the conversation and quickly pieced together he was the object of discussion. He heard their voices fade to his right and figured they were walking away. He knew he should get up, but just for a few minutes more he wanted to remain down. His arm felt much better, indicating Beckett had worked his voodoo magic, voodoo in McKay's eyes at least. Sheppard held Carson's profession in higher esteem, especially after Beckett had talked them through the fiasco with the tic-wraith and then saved him again when he was changing into a wraith. If it weren't for Carson, he wouldn't be here.

He heard footsteps approaching, but made no move to open his eyes and join the living. His memories had caught up with his mind and he wasn't eager to have to deal with a new set of problems.

"You need to wake up now Major, it's time." Beckett instructed gently.

John debated the wisdom of refusing to cooperate, before letting his eyes slide open softly. "I'm awake," he said.

Beckett smiled. "I know you were."

"I was hoping I'd wake up and this would've been a bad dream."

"Only in the movies, Major." Beckett peeled back the bandages covering his arm and seemed pleased. "Your arm looks good. How do you feel?"

John was overcome with a sneeze right at that inopportune moment. Beckett handed him a tissue and eyed Sheppard critically. "Would you believe I feel fine?" Sheppard asked. He actually did. His arm only suffered from a mild ache, and despite the typical congestion with a head cold, he felt close to normal.

"I would, actually, Motrin is a miracle worker. Eight hundred milligrams IM should keep you settled for a while."

Sheppard wondered just how long he'd been out for. "Did you try to contact Atlantis?"

"Rodney did. We got through and let them know about our run-in with the resident life-forms."

"Has McKay made any progress?"

Beckett shook his head. "We were waiting for you to wake up before making any decisions. Apparently, Rodney has some theories."

Sheppard nodded, and got to his feet, pleased to find he could use his clawed arm fairly well. He took the time to examine their new surroundings and realized they had been deposited in an alpine area this time. The trees were stunted and consisted of mostly coniferous trees, with the spare elder and ash intermixed. There was a large amount of dead undergrowth littered among the pine trees, and the hoary threads of what he'd heard his father call moose hair hung amongst the branches. He didn't even know what the correct name of the stuff was, but it looked like the brown lichen you would find on the artic tundra, except it was draped in the trees like dental floss.

"Pretty." Sheppard observed. "Not too hot, not too cold. I could live with this."

"Sure, until the bears show up." Beckett grouched. "Or the snow."

Sheppard raised an eyebrow. "Bears?"

"Where's a bear?" Rodney approached Beckett and Sheppard. "I don't see a bear?"

"There isn't a bear." Sheppard answered. "Beckett was saying there _might_ be bears."

"I like bears." Rodney had always enjoyed the zoo displays with the sun bears and the polar bears. He smiled remembering a documentary of a famous Alaskan polar bear that he'd watched; Binky was his name. He had a thing for balls.

Beckett looked at McKay. "I didn't say I didn't like bears," he said crossly.

"_Enough_ with the bears." Sheppard said. "We need to get out of here, and McKay, you wouldn't like a bear if it was trying to eat you. Bears do that, you know."

"Only if they're threatened." Rodney defended. "The same as you and me."

"Fine," Sheppard growled. "I'll remind them of that when they're chasing us up a tree."

"I thought you said enough with the bears?" Beckett interjected.

"Yes, I did." Sheppard drawled. "McKay, Beckett said you had some theories as to what's happening?"

Rodney seemed to gather himself. "Oh, right. It's kind of interesting, actually. I think we're on the same planet," he indicated for Sheppard to follow him towards the DHD. "Do you remember I said it was odd the consoles were identical?"

Sheppard nodded. He also remembered not fully comprehending McKay's problem with the identical appearance. He looked at the DHD that McKay was indicating, and he compared it with the mental picture from the DHD from their desert location. It was definitely the same but he still didn't understand the significance.

"No two DHD's are the same, or so we thought. The reason is because on almost every planet we've gated to, there's been one gate. Now, there has been the occasional exception, Earth being the most notable, but on Earth we didn't have a DHD to compare, well not until we blew up the Russian's DHD, but the other was in Antarctica and "

" McKay, just give me the point." John interrupted. Rodney had this ability to prattle on with as much extraneous information as he could manage to expand upon.

Rodney scowled at Sheppard, but abbreviated his comments. "The _point_, Major, is that we can conclude that an identical DHD would indicate the same location. As in, we're still on M3M-552."

"You're sure?" Sheppard asked.

"Reasonably. It stands to follow, that if the gate system was randomly dumping us on other planets, _their_ gates would work. We've had the same conditions at all three gates. If it was a problem with the entire gate network, Doctor Beckett and all our supplies shouldn't be here." Rodney explained.

John considered McKay's statements. His assumptions seemed logical, but that didn't do anything to get them home. "Can you fix it?"

"Fix it?" Rodney shook his head. "I don't know. When they discovered the Antarctica gate, the wormhole had jumped tracks when an energy beam struck the gate as they left a different planet. Carter couldn't get them home because she kept dialing Earth's address, and they were already on Earth. It's a different situation."

"And we know we're not on the planet where Atlantis is, because we're actually connecting." Sheppard said. "So what if we dial a different planet?"

"Wouldn't that be risky?" Beckett asked. He knew that before they gated to other planets, they sent a MALP through to verify the safety of their destination. They didn't have a MALP.

"We could have Atlantis check it out first, since we have the benefit of radio contact." Rodney hypothesized. "At the very least it might help pinpoint the problem by eliminating other possibilities. Right now I'm not a hundred percent certain the problem is here. It might _be_ Atlantis."

John realized he hadn't considered the possibility that the problem wasn't on their end. "Are other teams experiencing problems?"

"Elizabeth said we're the only team out. When we failed to make it back she called off the other planned expeditions." McKay remembered. He also remembered asking if Zelenka had made any progress. Elizabeth assured Rodney that the Czech was searching the Ancient databases for any clues to the problems while Grodin put the Atlantis gate through a systems check that had turned up problem-free.

Sheppard made his decision. "We'll do it, but we go together, and we take everything with us. We don't know if we'll end up somewhere else on this planet, and if we do manage to gate off this world, we won't be coming back."

"What if we end up where the wolves were?" Beckett asked. "That's where it returned you two before."

"Good point. We'll have to be ready to gate out immediately. We can only hope they've dispersed after we left." Sheppard replied.

"Hope is for fools and children, Major." McKay declared.

"When did you become such a pessimist, McKay?"

"When my parents told me Santa Claus was a myth," Rodney snapped. "I was four."

"Santa's a myth?" Sheppard smiled.

"Funny." McKay shoved more materials into his pack. He'd made the mistake of assuming they'd be here for a while and had unrolled his sleeping bag. He swore the military designers had a screw loose when they created these things. When you were given the item, it was nice and compact, but after the first unraveling you realized that it was physically impossible to return the bag to its original size. It always stayed larger than it should; despite all of the sitting, pulling, and shoving he tried. He _hated_ that bag.

"While you wrestle with your _gear_, I'll dial home and bring Doctor Weir up to speed." Sheppard grinned as he watched McKay struggle clumsily with the military issue bag. He knew the trick needed to roll it up properly, but he wasn't going to tell. Rodney was smart; eventually he'd figure it out.

* * *

"Major Sheppard, Peter says the MALP shows sunny skies and warm temperatures on M46-378. You have the all-clear." Weir's voice filtered over the radio from far across the galaxy.

"Copy that, Atlantis. We'll radio home when we arrive at our destination, or what we hope will be our destination." Sheppard answered dryly.

"Good luck, Major, Atlantis out." The wormhole disengaged.

John took a deep breath. "Dial it up, McKay." There wasn't anything else to say. They knew they might be walking into a death trap if they gated back to the wolves' location, and they might end up on the other planet, or a new location on this planet.

In the distance, a loud growl echoed. It started low, but rose in volume to become long and deep, a guttural primitive sound. Sheppard's eyes widened. McKay looked at Beckett, as if blaming him for the new development. "Is that " Rodney began.

" a bear." Sheppard finished for him. "_Dial,_ McKay." Sheppard didn't even pull his eyes from the gate. This was getting ridiculous.

McKay swallowed. "Dialing." he said.

The gate engaged before they saw any sign of the animal responsible for the sound. Sheppard figured it might not be a bear, for all they knew, but it sure sounded like ones from Earth. He wasn't about to wait around to find out. "Let's go." He called, and waited until Beckett and McKay had left, before walking backwards into the event horizon, watching as long as his eyes could see. Just before he was sucked through, he thought he saw movement, but if it was a figment of his mind or an actual bear, he didn't have time to find out.

The first sensation he was aware of was the heat. It was hot, and not hot like the desert they had gated to when this fiasco began, but a stifling, sticky heat that reached into the pit of your belly and ripped the breath from your lungs. He looked around with growing disgust, dropping his pack with extra force. "This isn't M46-378."

"This is a bigger problem then I thought." McKay agreed. He was already examining the DHD. "It's identical. We've got to be on the same planet."

"How's that possible?" Beckett asked, perplexed.

Rodney was already running ideas and possibilities through his mind. "I have an idea. Major, I want us to dial Atlantis again, and go through the gate."

"You know what's going on?" Sheppard asked.

"Not entirely, but I'm beginning to get more of an idea. If I'm right, we'll come out where those wolf things are, so we need to be prepared to dial up as soon as we arrive." McKay explained.

Sheppard thought of asking for a more detailed explanation but changed his mind. He trusted that McKay knew where this was going and if his theories were correct, he'd explain it in depth at that point. There was definitely something hinky going on, that much was clear. The fact that every new gate seemed to be situated in a different biome wasn't lost on him.

This biome was the rain forest variety and he'd hate to see the size of snakes that grew here. The jungle was teeming with raucous birdcalls and insect chatter. It made his skin crawl, thinking about the amount of bugs that were probably in that forest. Sheppard realized Beckett and McKay were staring at him. He cleared his throat and tightened his vest. "Fine. Do your thing McKay."

Rodney pressed the same familiar symbols in quick order and the wormhole engaged predictably on schedule. He sent his IDC and waited. Elizabeth answered a few seconds later. "I take it you are still on M3M-552?"

"Yes, we are. Elizabeth, I have an idea. We're going to go through again, and if I'm right, we'll be activating the gate immediately after we arrive on the other side. I don't expect when we do that we'll wind up back home, but we'll have to go through the motions, so don't be alarmed."

"Understood. Atlantis out." Weir replied.

McKay hesitated before turning to Sheppard. "Major, you should probably go first this time."

John grinned like a Cheshire cat, but stepped through the gate without commenting. McKay followed closely behind Beckett, who was looking decidedly worried. As much as McKay was adapting to living under constant pressure, Carson was struggling to avoid it as much as possible.

Sheppard wasn't surprised to see the gate did deposit them where the wolves attacked. McKay had implied that was exactly what would happen, and usually, after a few slips here or there, Rodney had a handle on a situation. He scanned the tree line and realized it was clear. He also noticed a good portion of those he'd shot down were considerably chewed, and torn apart; cannibalism of their own kind. That bothered him, even though he knew they were wild animals, it wasn't typical for wolves. This indicated a hunger level that would explain the overwhelming attack and the level of perseverance the animals had displayed in the face of the P90.

John didn't recall seeing any higher order animals of the four-legged variety in this area. It was possible they had decimated their hunting grounds leaving little recourse for food. If that were the case, he could only hope their habitat was a distance away and it would take time for them to travel back towards the gate if they were able to detect their presence.

The slurping sound told him the gate had regurgitated McKay and Beckett. He turned in time to see McKay beaming as he realized he'd gotten one thing right. He also remembered they needed to gate out of here. "McKay?" he prompted.

"I know. I'm on it. I'm going to dial M46-378. If I'm right, we'll be back at the jungle." Rodney approached the DHD, and placing his gun on the console, tapped the correct symbols.

"Are you sure, Rodney?" Beckett was looking more nervous than before.

"Reasonably." McKay avoided eye contact with Carson.

Beckett looked towards Sheppard, who shrugged. John knew there wasn't a lot to lose at this point. The MALP had already verified the safety of M46-378. It was unlikely anything had changed, so either they'd end up there or the rain forest. Of course, there was the chance that Rodney was wrong in his assumption, and they'd end up someplace entirely different.

Sheppard realized the blue puddle had settled comfortably into a flat entrance to their next destination, and Rodney and Beckett were waiting for him to say the word. The hounds from hell hadn't made an appearance, always a good thing, and here they were off again. This was getting tiring. If everything looked good at the next spot, he was going to call it a day. They needed sleep and he could feel the ache in his arm beginning to grow with a persistent need, and another sneeze was building uncomfortably in his nose.

"Let's see where the rabbit hole takes us this time," and he walked in without a backward glance, trusting they'd be right behind.


	7. Calling it a Day

**

* * *

Chapter Seven**

**Calling it a Day

* * *

**

Sheppard stepped through on the other side of the gate, his foot flowing seamlessly in line from where it had left off on the opposite side of the other gate. The heat gut-punched him, _again_, and the loud insects and birds quickly confirmed McKay's supposition. They were back at the jungle.

Before he had time to contemplate what that meant, McKay and Beckett arrived. They had that 'deer in the headlights' appearance, like when you were six years old, and sneaking that third cookie from Grandma, and she walks in on you right as you're pulling your hand out of the cookie jar. John frowned. "What happened?"

Beckett took a steadying breath. "Those things showed up after you left."

Rodney had already begun to relax, and was grinning like one of Sheppard's friends after they had replaced his toothpaste with shaving cream. "I've never seen Beckett run so hard in my life."

"Rodney, you beat _me_ to the gate." Beckett said, exasperated. "And you were behind me!"

Sheppard felt a soft trickle, and an itch inside his left nostril that was climbing in intensity. He tried to fight off the sneeze but knew it was a loosing battle. He turned to the side and sneezed so hard he thought his eyeballs had to have shifted an inch foreword in his head. "Damn," he swore.

"Bless you," Rodney said, and conspicuously took a step away from the Major.

His movement wasn't lost on John. "You know, McKay, when someone sneezes, millions of germs are released into the air. Even now, those little guys are floating around seeking a new host."

"That's disgusting." Rodney said, as if someone had just wiped their nose on his sleeve.

"But it's true," Beckett joined in. "Truthfully Rodney, there could be a colony breeding right now in your airways. Cold viruses _love_ the throat."

"Nice." McKay headed towards the DHD, intentionally ignoring Sheppard and Beckett's needling.

Sheppard followed him, peering over his shoulder as he studied the display. McKay worked for a few minutes before looking at John with irritation. "Do you mind?" he asked.

"What?"

"You're contagious." McKay said. "I'm invoking the five-foot rule."

John rolled his eyes, but he did step back a few feet. "You said you had a theory on what's going on?"

McKay nodded, and opened the bottom of the DHD. "I think this planet was some kind of testing ground for gates," he said, poking his head in fully. "Either that, or a zoo," he mumbled.

Sheppard heard his last comment. "A zoo?"

"The Ancient's had a zoo?" Carson spoke up. "Did they do that kind of thing?"

McKay pulled his head out from under the DHD and stared at Carson with a long-suffering look. Carson returned his stare, waiting for an explanation, before his mind wound back through their experiences in Atlantis, and he remembered the captured electrical entity. "Oh. Right," he looked away.

"That doesn't explain why we can't dial home." Sheppard said.

"Actually, it does." Rodney stood up and held a crystal component in his hand. "When I was examining the wolf-gate I noticed there was an extra circuit in the DHD. The Ancient systems are redundant, which is why I didn't think anything of it at the time "

"What's it for?" Carson interrupted.

"I was getting to that." McKay said irritably. "I think it's what causes the gates to only transmit across the planet, and allows them to work like a limited network."

"So if you remove it, we can dial home?" Sheppard asked.

McKay was already nodding. "Exactly."

"Do it," Sheppard ordered.

McKay was already replacing the panel underneath the DHD, and dialing. He pressed each symbol, and after hitting the last designator for Atlantis, waited expectantly for the familiar explosion of liquid.

The gate symbols flashed like blinking lights on a Christmas tree, and it emitted a high pitched squeal before everything shut down, and left the gate looking as dead and cold as a fish caught for dinner.

Sheppard had been watching the whole process, and turned to McKay. "That didn't sound good."

"I think you broke it, Rodney." Beckett said in the still air. He was staring at the gate with some trepidation. Carson had disliked gate travel from the beginning. He didn't trust any process that broke your body up to subatomic particles and reformed them somewhere else. It was too much like something out of Star Trek.

"I didn't break it," Rodney snapped. "Just, give me a minute."

John leaned towards Beckett. "He broke it," he whispered.

McKay's head was back under the DHD. "I didn't break it!" he refuted, his voice muffled.

Sheppard raised an eyebrow at Beckett that said it all, and found a nice spot to toss his gear down and sit. His arm was stinging with every movement, and his throat was starting to feel as if a pack of hens had pecked it raw. "Take your time," he said towards McKay's legs.

Sheppard settled down as well as he could, favoring his sore arm. Fatigue had a way of surfacing long enough to make you realize you were running on fumes, then fading into the background like an annoying mosquito buzzing in your ear. Every now and then the buzzing built to a level that made you smack it away, and you enjoyed a few false moments of peace before it came back.

The ground was sickeningly soft against his back, and he fought to not think about all the things that were crawling everywhere. He never liked jungles. It was one of the reasons he preferred McMurdo, no bugs. His experience with the Tic-Wraith had done nothing to ease that hatred, only increased his paranoia because that thing was a lot worse than many of the bugs that lived on Earth, although, those wolf spiders were pretty disturbing.

Sheppard figured he'd let McKay work till it began to darken, and then they could set up shelter and allot watches. He would've liked to keep guard the entire night, but knew he wasn't up to that, even without the fact that he was sick factored in. The problem was, McKay and Beckett weren't military, and he wasn't thrilled at the thought of putting them in a position that required military training, but that was the situation they had been forced into. He'd have to make the best of it. Close quarters, big fire to scare away potential predators, and strict instructions to wake him at the slightest cause.

"What animals live in a jungle?" Beckett asked from beside John.

Sheppard wasn't sure Carson wanted to know. "Don't ask."

"Too late." Beckett was mentally answering his own question. "Cougars, and _snakes_. I don't like snakes," he said forlornly.

Sheppard turned his head just enough to look at Carson. "_Nobody_ likes snakes," he stated, "Except, what are those people who study reptiles?"

"Herpetologists." McKay piped from his place under the DHD, indicating he'd been following their conversation.

"Thanks," Sheppard glared in McKay's direction. "Aren't you supposed to be fixing that thing?"

"Don't mention it," Rodney answered, muffled by the walls of the compartment he was shoved into. "And I am."

"I won't," Sheppard said. "Mention it," he clarified. He scrubbed his hands across his face, trying to ease the gritty feeling he felt all over, then rotated his hand trying to see exactly what time it was. Again, he realized with frustration, that he didn't have a watch.

"It's ten-thirty, Major, give or a take a few minutes," Beckett answered before he could voice his question.

"McKay, let's call it a day. It's getting late," Sheppard called. He could see the small fingers of twilight begin to tug at the sky and knew the night would soon grab the daylight in a fist and yank it away. He wanted to have the camp set and the perimeter for watch secured.

"Give me a minute, Major, if I'm right," McKay shoved something into place with a hard shove, "we might get home in time to read you a book and tuck you into bed with your favorite pair of jammies."

Sheppard got to his feet, rolling his shoulders to work out the stiffness that had settled from the damp ground and lack of movement. He stood over McKay's legs and waited for him to notice his presence. He heard the clinking of crystals and waited. Seconds ticked by, and he shifted his foot, almost touching McKay's right pant leg, and still the physicist continued to work without noticing that John was practically standing on top of him. Sheppard cleared his throat, loudly.

The noise stopped, and McKay's arms stilled. John could tell because the slight twitches of his legs stopped when he stopped moving his arms. He slid his body out from the DHD and stared at Sheppard, blinking against the change in light, while his eyes adjusted. "Yes?" McKay asked, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge why Sheppard was there, even though they both knew he knew.

"Do you think it's fixed? If we tried to gate home now, would it work?" Sheppard asked bluntly.

Rodney wanted to go into a long explanation of why he was close. He wanted to explain that if he kept tweaking the systems they did have a shot of being home before nightfall, and maybe they wouldn't have to face a long miserable night camping on the zoo planet of the Ancient's, if that was even a correct assumption, but he looked at Sheppard, and shook his head instead. "No."

"Thank you." Sheppard gave him a hand up. "We'll have plenty of time to work on this tomorrow."

"I wish you wouldn't have said that." Beckett had gotten to his feet and was brushing the clingy brush from his backside. "The prospect of spending another day on this planet is not endearing."

The prospect was made even less so, because no sooner had Carson said what everyone was thinking, than a loud animal roar reverberated in the air, angry and promising trouble. Sheppard thought back to his earlier conversation with Beckett about cougars and snakes. He didn't know of any snake that made a sound like that, but a cougar was a definite possibility.

"Do you get the feeling that we're in an episode of Land of the Lost?" McKay asked, breaking the silence that the animal's call had created.

"Land of the Lost? Did people actually watch that?" Sheppard asked, incredulous. All he could remember of that show was the seventies era sets, incredibly fake looking caves, and the really bad B-movie models of dinosaurs.

"Yes, people really _watched_ it, Major," Rodney snapped. "It was a good show. I never missed an episode."

"If you say so." Sheppard replied in such a way that everyone knew he didn't believe it for a minute.

"Couldn't they send a jumper through?"

"What?" Sheppard and McKay chorused the question together, rounding on Carson in surprise, having their conversation derailed, which was probably Beckett's intention.

"A jumper. We could cloak it, and then we'd be safe from the critters."

Sheppard looked like someone had just taken away his bicycle and replaced it with an '84 Trans-Am. "Beckett, you're a genius!"

"It should work." McKay had been so focused on fixing the DHD that he hadn't stopped to consider an alternative solution.

"What if it routes the Jumper to one of the other gates on the planet?" Sheppard didn't feel like gate-hopping all night trying to track down their safety net.

Rodney was already shaking his head negative. "I don't think it will. From what I've been able to figure out, that wolf-gate is the default gate on this planet. All incoming wormholes from off-world go through there."

Sheppard tried to concentrate. This was important, but he was really getting tired, and he wasn't exactly at the top of his game right now. "Then why did it send us to all these different gates when we dial Atlantis?"

"Keep in mind this is just a theory, but I think that these gates have a design that accepts improper addresses, or maybe each biome is keyed for a certain gate address to represent the zoological basis of that planet. Either way, entering a gate address shuttles you to a specific location on this planet. I think that the Atlantis code matches the wolf-gate, hence why we keep ending back there, but when we dial _from_ the wolf-gate, it doesn't know how to handle it, so it sends us to random locations." Rodney fired his explanation off, trying to condense his thoughts into as little information as possible, hoping they could understand what he was trying to say.

Beckett stood, gaping at McKay, his mind lagging like a slow modem on the Internet, struggling to figure out what Rodney had just said. He gave up, turned to Sheppard, "Did you understand that?"

John was nodding slowly as his mind processed McKay's hypothesis. It made sense. "Yes, I did," he clapped McKay on the back, hard enough to make Rodney lurch forward. "Did you fix it enough to dial Atlantis? We can ask Weir to send the Jumper through so it's waiting for us. Then we make a run for it, and hope those man-eating wolves aren't around."

"I think so." _I hope so,_ McKay thought to himself. If he was wrong they might not live to see tomorrow.

Sheppard knew time was escaping around them. "Dial it up, and it wouldn't hurt to cross your fingers," he added.

"I'll even cross my toes." Beckett promised solemnly.

John stood beside McKay as he began entering the symbols. He was tense, every muscle betraying his fear if this didn't work. As if on cue, that animal sound echoed again around them, and it sounded distinctly closer. If it was one, they'd probably be okay, but the problem was it usually wasn't only one. Cougars tended to be solitary animals but where there was one, there was more.

The gate exploded white-tipped blue waves outward, cresting wide, before falling into the circular frame. John let the lungful of air out that he'd been holding, and turned to McKay with a nonchalant grin. "I knew you could do it."

"Was there any doubt?" McKay replied, equally as confident, but a thin undertone of true relief wasn't lost on John.

Sheppard didn't reply, but sent the IDC and depressed his radio. "Doctor Weir, we have an idea."

* * *

"You sure the Jumper is waiting?" Beckett asked. He was regarding the gate with distrust, as if he expected the event horizon to reach out and snatch him up, never to spit him out again.

"I'm sure," Sheppard replied with more patience than he felt. "And Weir said she even sent your pillow."

Beckett continued to hesitate at the threshold. Sheppard hated to do this to the Doctor, but McKay had walked through seconds before, and there wasn't time to waste. He gave Beckett a hard shove, and followed him through.

Time passed in that infinitely small way that a trip through a wormhole dictated. It was a pathway through a world that didn't exist, not as they knew existence to be, and he was relieved when he surfaced on the other side.

"The Jumper's warmed and ready, Sir."

Sheppard smiled, and it was a smile that started at the tip of his head and ran through to his feet. "Lieutenant, good to see you."

"Good to see you too, Sir. Teyla's getting Beckett and McKay settled." Ford took Sheppard's pack and gestured to an area in the clearing where the rear hatch was opening out of thin air.

They made the trek into the safety of the vehicle in short order, and Sheppard wasted no time in finding a soft spot in the rear of the Jumper where Teyla or Ford, or whomever, had laid out sleeping bags over some cushions. He sank down wearily and closed his eyes. Regardless of what it took to get off this planet, for now he could finally relax for the first time in over forty-eight hours. They should be safe inside the cloaked Jumper, invisible to all the eyes of the indigenous life forms.

"Here, Major." Ford handed him a thick book, "Doctor Weir said you'd probably want this."

Sheppard took the thick volume, and pulled out the thin sheet of paper tucked in its pages, reading the message. _Come home soon, Elizabeth_. He smiled. He set the book down and looked up to find everyone staring at him. "What?" he asked. "I like to read."


	8. Puddle Jumping

AN: Tipper, can I frame that feedback? Seriously, thank you! To _everyone_, thank you, I'm so thrilled to know that you all are enjoying the story. And, I've got to say, this story isn't near being finished, we've just begun smile!

**

* * *

**

Chapter Eight

**Puddle Jumping

* * *

**

Sheppard was resting in the pilot's seat. The wide front window of the Jumper allowed a breathtaking view of the sunrise, or _sunrises_. He hadn't noticed before, but M3M-552 had two suns. One was hazy and distant, a paler twin to the brighter star that burned hotter and nearer. They were riding the horizon in tandem, stretching forelegs into the stars. The refracted wavelengths painted a canvas of amethyst robes on a kingly throne.

It was quiet in the vehicle. John had woken before the others and crept to the front, letting the fatigue settle on his shoulders, like Atlas carrying the weight of the world. More sleep wouldn't shake the sapped feeling. He was beginning to worry that his cold was wreaking more havoc with his body then he had believed. It was hard to sleep when your head ached, your arm throbbed, and every turn in bed caused a flare of pain.

"Shame that such a pretty world has such a deadly ecosystem." McKay slid into the seat beside Sheppard, watching the vista of creation, before turning to John. He noticed John's pale lips, and flushed cheeks. He also noticed the liquid-glazed eyes and fatigue hanging over him like a pallbearer waiting to take up his burden. "You look like hell."

"Thanks." Sheppard said, keeping his eyes forward.

McKay sensed this wasn't a good time to press. "Anytime." Beckett would be up soon enough, and could do his job. Let Sheppard get angry with Carson.

They continued to watch the raw nature revealed from their seats for a few minutes more, before the quiet became too much for McKay. "Did they bring any coffee?"

Sheppard regarded Rodney without saying anything, but his meaning was clear. McKay cleared his throat. "I'll just go check," he said, pointing to the back.

"You do that."

McKay placed a hand on Sheppard's seat as he passed by, paused, and turned to the Major. "Want a cup?"

Sheppard closed his eyes, counted to ten, and reopened them, looking at McKay. "Yes, I _would_. Thank you, McKay."

"You're welcome," Rodney replied, surprised at Sheppard's acceptance. He could tell John wanted to be alone, and that his presence had been intrusive, but the Jumper wasn't exactly the Hilton.

John knew he had thrown McKay off, but he also knew it wasn't fair to take out his frustrations on a man he considered to be his closest friend. He'd left everyone behind, _not that I had anyone_, he thought bitterly. His two best friends killed in action, his career in ruins. This had been a chance to make something out of his life. The developing friendship with Rodney had taken him off guard. They were opposite ends of the magnetic pole, always repelling each other yet always attracted by a common bond, though what it was he still hadn't figured out.

"Major," Rodney offered the steaming cup.

John took it into his hands, cradling the heat source, and inhaling the aromatic scent of the canned coffee. "It's not Starbucks."

"I prefer home ground, actually."

"Come on, the Caramel Machiatto is to _die_ for."

"Over processed," McKay shook his head disdainfully. "A true coffee connoisseur knows that you've got to select the best beans, roast them to perfection, grind and use immediately. It's the storage that leeches the flavor."

Sheppard took a long sip. Definitely not Starbucks, but after a few days without, it was better than any cup of coffee he'd had since they made it to Atlantis. "You roast your own beans?" he asked. "It's just coffee, McKay."

"Is it _just wine_, Major?" Rodney huffed.

"I don't like wine."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a difficult person to try and make a point with?" McKay snapped, although they both knew he wasn't truly irritated.

Sheppard smiled, and took another slow sip, turning back towards the window. The twin suns had now galloped across the sky and reclaimed day from the moon and stars, chasing them away to that nether realm where they'd wait patiently until the suns tired and relinquished control for another night. There was still a morning haze coating the world in a misty promise of heat. He wondered how many sunrises they'd be around to witness. "Did you think of any solutions in your dreams?" he casually asked.

"Maybe," Rodney admitted. "Say this is a zoo, or a gate testing site, you'd think there would be a control center. Now that we've got the Jumper, it would be easy to search the planet."

"What good is that?"

"Major, if you had a test location, or an observation center, where would you keep the information you gathered locally?" McKay asked.

"In a database," Sheppard nodded as he realized where Rodney was leading. "And that database might contain "

"Information on how to gate home," McKay finished. "Exactly."

John straightened in his chair, the coffee in his cup sloshing against the rim and spilling a few dark drops on his pants, which went unnoticed. "What are we waiting for?"

McKay pointed a casual thumb towards the rear of the Jumper, while taking another sip.

Sheppard twisted and looked to the rear, amazed to see the three bodies in the same position from earlier. If it weren't for the small slow periodic rise of the material, he'd wonder if they hadn't died. He turned back to the front. "Right."

* * *

"Where are we going?" Beckett asked, his voice thick with drowsiness. His hair was mussed and his general appearance disheveled. His five o'clock shadow had a shadow. He had been woken a few minutes ago by a curt shake from McKay. He'd stumbled out of his bag and accepted the steaming cup of coffee without thinking. He didn't even _like_ coffee. 

"For the fourth time, Carson, we're going to look for the control center that the Ancients probably built somewhere on this god forsaken planet," Rodney explained.

"It looks like a nice planet to me," Ford said.

"You wouldn't say that if you'd been washed down a river," John cringed as he moved his arm, "Or clawed by a He-Wolf out for his dinner."

"Good point, Sir." Ford needed the reminder. The three men hadn't experienced an easy time, and the Major and McKay had an even harder experience with the river crossing from before Beckett had gated over. It was important to remember that looks could be deceiving, and this planet was an unforgiving teacher. Forgetting that lesson might cost you your life.

"Speaking of that," Beckett looked at Sheppard. "Major, may I see you a minute?"

Sheppard sniffed, trying to keep his nose from dripping while he searched for a tissue he swore was there a second ago. "What?" he asked, having missed Beckett's question.

"I said, I need to see you for a minute." Carson repeated.

John seemed to debate whether he wanted to cooperate. Beckett crossed his arms and regarded the Major. "It will do you no good to put it off," he said sharply.

"Fine." Sheppard stood from his seat where he'd been prepping the Jumper for flight. "McKay, figure out where we're going."

Beckett stood to the side of the cockpit's entrance, holding his hand out for the Major to go first into the rear of the Jumper. As Sheppard hunched by to get in the back, Carson shut the door behind him. "Have a seat, Major."

John sat down gingerly, trying to look as if he wasn't favoring his arm, but was largely unsuccessful. He looked across and saw Teyla pulling bandages from Carson's bag. "It's fine. I don't need new band-aids."

"Band-aids?" Beckett said it in such a way that Sheppard knew his attempt at minimizing his injury hadn't worked. "Open," Carson instructed, shoving the thermometer into John's mouth when he did so.

Sheppard felt ridiculous, on top of feeling sick and washed out. The digital thermometer beeped under his nose and he sat there feeling like he was ten again, dragged into the doctor's office when he complained to his mother that his stomach hurt, hoping to get out of school, but only earning a trip to the Doctor.

"How are you feeling?" Carson asked.

Sheppard raised his eyebrows trying to look Carson in the face, which wasn't easy with him standing over him. "Mmm…fine," he tried to speak clearly but that wasn't easy either, when there was something shoved into your mouth.

Carson unhooked the blood pressure cuff he'd stuck on John's arm, and turned back after handing it off to Teyla, "What was that?"

John rolled his eyes, and pulled out the thermometer. "I _said_ I feel fine."

Beckett took the machine, checked the display, and shoved it back into John's mouth. "Just once I wish you would be honest," he sighed. "The only one who ever admits the truth is Rodney, and sometimes I wish he'd not be near as truthful."

Sheppard snorted, but didn't say anything. Teyla smiled, knowing full well the cause of John's mirth. McKay was a known hypochondriac, but they all learned a vocal McKay was a working McKay.

The digital thermometer did the triple beep signaling it was finished with its job. Beckett took the slim machine and eyed the reading. He frowned, which caused Sheppard to frown as well. "What?"

"One-hundred point seven, Major. Let me see your arm."

John figured that was part of the drained feeling. Fevers tended to have a reducing effect on vitality and energy. He held out his arm and let Beckett carefully pull his sleeve upward, exposing the thick wrapping of bandages that Carson had applied yesterday. He looked over and was surprised to see the white had been replaced with a yellow tinged red in many areas.

Beckett eyed it critically. "That would be the cause."

Teyla was staring at the mess on the Major's arm. "Cause?"

"His fever, Teyla. The scratches are infected." Beckett held a hand for his bag, which Teyla passed over to him. He took the bag and started rummaging through, looking for something. He pulled out a small clear bottle and a syringe.

John was eyeing Carson with trepidation. "What's that for?"

Beckett noticed the look on John's face. "It's to numb the area, Major. That arm is going to have to be cleaned, again, and it's going to hurt."

"I thought it was just the cold making me feel tired." Sheppard hadn't intentionally tried to be the stoic soldier and let a potentially dangerous injury get worse. He knew in conditions like this everyone needed to be in the best shape possible. Knowing there wasn't much to be done for the common cold, he'd tried to suffer in silence. His arm had only started to really ache during the night.

"It's my fault, Major," Beckett was full of recriminations, all aimed at himself. "I should've checked last night. I should've started prophalytic treatment. Teyla, tell Rodney we're going to be a few minutes."

Teyla nodded, and headed to the front of the Jumper, opening the hatch and poking her head forward, out of John's sight. He heard the soft rumblings of her voice, and the lower, strident replies from McKay.

He saw Teyla pull her head back, and Rodney poked his head around her body, sighting on the Major, and frowning. Sheppard waved jauntily with his good arm, and tried to smile brightly for levity.

McKay didn't say anything but pulled his head back, and Teyla shut the door, coming back to help Beckett with the medical torture that cleaning his wounds was going to be. Carson was eyeing him hard and making John feel uneasy. "What?"

"I think I'll give you a bit of this before I start removing the bandages."

Before Sheppard had a chance to ask how a numbing agent could be effective given in a different location than the cuts, Carson had slipped the needle into his shoulder, just below the joint. He felt the cool line of the medicine thread into his veins and felt his tongue get thick in his mouth. "What "

"Be good, Major, this will be over before you know it," Carson whispered softly, as the Major's eyes drifted shut as the light sedative took effect.

Teyla seemed surprised. "You drugged Major Sheppard?"

"That I did." Beckett pointed at the crusted bandages. "Lass, that is going to hurt like the devil himself when I pull them off, and there's no making it better. If I hadn't put him out of it "

"I understand, Doctor." Teyla did, actually. Major Sheppard would never ask for pain medication, and would've tried to get through it, hating every show of weakness that he would unwittingly let through his defenses. It would be unnecessary pain.

"Let's get this done. That should only last about thirty minutes, and I want to be finished in about twenty."

* * *

"Beckett, the next time you drug me, don't be around when I wake up." 

Carson leaned over Sheppard. "Be thankful you were. That arm was a mess."

John let his eyes open, relieved to find that Beckett had kept the room empty, and it was still Carson and Teyla keeping watch. His arm was burning; it felt like his skin had been scrubbed raw.

"I've given you some pain relief, it'll kick in shortly. I've also started you on a broad spectrum antibiotic."

Sheppard grimaced, and tried to get into a sitting position, reaching for Beckett's hand when he failed to make any progress on his own. "Give it a moment. It'll wear off fast."

"Is McKay ready?"

"We were waiting for you, Major," Teyla answered. She was watching him with thinly veiled concern.

John let out the deep breath, steeled his body, and got to his feet. He only swayed a little before gaining solid footing. "Let's go."

Beckett didn't protest so Sheppard figured he was safe for the time being. He headed towards the cockpit, and put his hand on the control. As the door slid open, a harsh sneeze echoed in the direction of the pilot's seat.

"Damn it." McKay swore. "He's going to pay for this."

"Who's going to pay for this?" Sheppard asked innocently. He knew exactly what McKay meant but he wanted to see him squirm.

McKay turned to look at the Major, who was standing shakily in the doorway, his arm bandaged thicker than before, the sleeve of his jacket bulging outwards from the bulk. "You know what I mean," he retorted, refusing to take the bait. "Sit, we've been waiting on you."

"Beckett, I think McKay's sick." John said, grinning.

"Despite Rodney's belief, it was only a matter of time. He'll live." Carson and Teyla took the seats directly behind Sheppard and McKay. Ford stood beside Teyla.

"Shall we?" Sheppard asked.

McKay checked the display one more time, dialed it up. "I dialed Athos. We'll see where that takes us. It's a start, anyway."

"Your theory is that this will take us to a gate somewhere on the planet?" Teyla asked. Teyla and Ford hadn't been there for the first half of this adventure, and she was still trying to make sure she understood what exactly was going on.

"Yes. It might be the bear gate," Rodney mused, recalling that Athos had a cooler climate than some of the other planets they'd visited.

"Bear gate?" Ford looked confused.

"Don't ask," Beckett advised solemnly.

Sheppard guided the Jumper into the sky, aimed it down the throat of the gate, and accelerated. The trip through was uneventful and to John's surprise, they did come out at the bear-gate, going with Rodney's designation of the different locations based on the wildlife in the area. "Great, now what?"

"Try thinking about it." Rodney had thought about that aspect earlier, when Beckett was fixing John's arm. It might come up on the display.

Sheppard thought about databases, the planet in general, gates…even tried thinking of a ZPM, but the display remained stubbornly quiet. "Nothing," he said, disgusted.

"Worth a shot, Sir," Ford said cheerfully.

"Ford, you do realize, we've been here for a while."

Ford's smile tempered to a muffled grin. "Sorry, Sir."

"It's fine, just "

McKay interrupted, "Try not to act so happy. It's annoying to those of us suffering from colds and clawed arms, and _stuff_." He wasn't going to mention the fact that the mold Sheppard had talked about seemed to be a very real possibility. He was probably growing fungus in places he didn't want to think about.

"Look, nothing's come up, does that mean it's not in this area, or that it doesn't work? Should we try one of the other gates?" Sheppard tried to steer the conversation back to the matter at hand.

McKay started to reply, his mouth opened, but then it opened further, and he let loose a humongous sneeze that sprayed Sheppard's jacket. John stared at McKay, the working of his jaw the only sign of his emotions. McKay stared back, in a sort of fascinated stupor. He cleared his throat and accepted the tissue that Carson was holding for him. He wiped his nose. "Sorry about that, Major," he leaned over and started wiping off John's coat with the tissue he'd wiped his nose with seconds ago.

Sheppard pushed his hands away. "McKay!"

"I said I was sorry," he retorted.

Everyone could see the vein throbbing on the side of John's head. "Just tell me what to do," John said with forced calm.

"Probably try another gate." McKay looked at the symbols, "What was that planet we went to with the dunes and it was hotter than "

"M4C-682," Teyla supplied before McKay could finish.

Rodney didn't seem perturbed by the interruption. "Yes, that's the one."

"Fine, dial."

Rodney quickly entered the right order of symbols, and the gate did its thing. John sighed, rotated his shoulders slightly then lifted the Jumper into the air again, gently guiding the controls and lining the Jumper on the right vector. "I hope this is it."

Rodney's reply was snuffed out by another Jumper-shaking sneeze. Sheppard threw a glare over his shoulder in Beckett's direction, "Can you give him something?"

"There's nothing to give for a cold, Major. You should know that," Carson reminded Sheppard of his own sneezing.

"Major!" McKay shouted. "Pay attention."

John turned his eyes back to the view screen. "Keep your shirt on, I know what I'm doing."

In the back, behind Teyla, Ford was fighting to keep the smile off his face. It was obvious that tempers were short between McKay and Sheppard. They were sick, and they were tired, and undoubtedly fed up with this planet, but the whole situation struck him as kind of funny. "And we're puddle jumpin'," he mumbled quietly.

A sharp look, but a slight smile from Teyla let on that he hadn't mumbled it as quietly as he thought. He worked harder on cutting the smile down, and kept his eyes forward. On to the next gate they went.


	9. Ancients Ancient Lab

**AN: fenestrae, your feedback touched me, but I must admit my first efforts were dismal. I love to write, and had some basic talent with it, but I needed a lot of work (and still do). You all are my guniea pigs (aren't you thrilled). Anyway, thank you so much, and again thank you everyone! I want to add that I apologize for the slow updates. I wanted a certain _thing_ with this story, and it's hard to sit back, and work it, and not fall into the trap of rushing. I actually had this chapter written but didn't like how it turned out so I scrapped it and started over. Thanks for being patient with me and not threatening to revolt! I want to say thanks to my beta Gaffer, and my two friends Bastet and Shelly who gave me feedback! Now, on to the show!****

* * *

Chapter Nine **

**Ancients Ancient Lab

* * *

**

John maneuvered the Jumper into another lazy arc; he had been increasing the distance from the gate incrementally with each pass. They had figured out how to get to the previous gates. McKay had used a combination of luck, experience, and prayer to pin down what addresses would connect to each of the gates they'd visited before, though John knew Rodney would never admit to the luck part.

The animal designations had stuck on the gates. The Bear gate was in a mountainous area, and a search within fifty miles had revealed nothing but snow-capped peaks that would make an outdoor enthusiast drool from the beauty, and scraggly pine trees. The Wolf gate had a similar result, turning up nothing but wasted time. The Desert gate hadn't had an animal to pin a moniker on it, so Ford had jumped on the name game with Desert gate. Sheppard figured nothing fit any better so he let it be, but it reminded him of some political scandal; Water-gate, Desert-gate; except there wasn't any President to blame their current circumstances on. They had searched the surrounding land, and found nothing but dimples in the sand for their efforts.

Now, they were circling the forest around the Cougar gate. The hours had ticked away like sands in the hourglass, passing with a blink of an eye, but John felt as gritty with fatigue and fever as if he were stuck inside that hourglass. The suns had sunk lower on the horizon, passing their apex, and signaling the day was dwindling. The lack of progress in the search was causing a level of frustration to erode his demeanor, and it was a struggle to keep the surliness out of his replies to the members of his team and Doctor Beckett.

"Are we there yet?" McKay intentionally needled Sheppard.

"Do you want to get out and walk?" John asked, that surliness notching up to a new level. He knew Rodney was trying to get a rise out of him, and he didn't mind complying.

Teyla frowned at the two men. She was unhappy with the continued bickering they had degenerated into. There was always a level of angst to their relationship, but for the past two hours the depth of their pettiness had increased, and it was grating on her nerves.

Beckett was having thoughts similar to Teyla, but he realized a lot of their sniping was caused by the virus running rampant in their systems, combined with the fact that they had been struggling to solve the situation for going on three days. Ironically, only one other member of the Atlantis expedition, Major John Sheppard, surpassed McKay's impatience. To be stuck in this situation with both men was a trial on his soul, yet he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Look, I realize this isn't exactly a carnival ride, but you said it yourself, it's probably our ticket home," Sheppard reminded McKay.

"I know," McKay replied. "It doesn't mean I'm enjoying it. The fact is, we could do this all day and still come up empty."

This time it was Ford who sighed. "We _have_ been doing this all day."

McKay regarded Ford with a look that spoke volumes. "Let me try again. We aren't getting anywhere doing it this way. There's got to be a better solution."

"Don't hold back," John said, checking his display to gauge the radius from the gate. "If you've got a better idea I'm all ears."

Rodney paused, trying to collect his thoughts. "I think it's safe to say that it isn't in the other locations. We had a good visual on the ground in those areas. Here, we can't see anything through the foliage. If you were going to construct a building you wanted hidden from outsiders, where would you put it?"

Sheppard had to agree with that. If you wanted to shield prying eyes, this jungle was the place to do it. "What would they have been hiding it _from_?"

"I don't know," Rodney looked perturbed. "I'm just saying, could be the Wraith, could be anyone. The point is you wouldn't build your lab out in the open, right?"

"That depends," Sheppard said. "If I was doing something I didn't want anyone to know about. The Ancients weren't exactly evildoers, McKay. Why would they try to hide?"

"Oh, _right_," McKay grabbed a tissue, and wiped his nose, without pausing. "May I remind you again of that black cloud entity that tried to suck the life from Atlantis? They weren't playing nice by capturing the neighborhood creatures and imprisoning them for ten thousand years."

Sheppard had to admit that had surprised him. He had thought the Ancients were some powerful, benevolent race, above wrong-doing, but in his own words he'd admitted he'd have been pissed if it'd been done to him. "True, but, you said this was some zoo, or gate testing planet, what's secret about that?"

"The zoo thing is just an assumption, maybe there's some other explanation?" Ford interjected.

John adjusted the flight path again. He didn't know what reasons the Ancients had for what was going on here. He had the gene, but he didn't have their database downloaded into his brain. He wasn't privy to what made them do the things they did. The closest person who could do that was McKay, so, "What do you suggest, McKay?"

"We go on foot." McKay dropped his bombshell.

The reaction was what McKay had expected. Ford looked eager, Teyla seemed apprehensive but open to the idea, Beckett looked like he wanted to hide under a blanket, and John looked, McKay didn't know how exactly John looked; tired, resolute, accepting, maybe all three.

"You do realize there are some very big animals down there?" Beckett asked. He was a doctor, and he wasn't embarrassed to let his timidity show. He never claimed he was up to playing Rambo in the jungle, or doing any of the other things that had been happening since they had gated to the Pegasus galaxy. That didn't mean he wouldn't go, but he wouldn't be lining up in first place.

Beckett had experience with jungles, and cougars. He'd spent a couple of years in Brazil, traveling amongst the tribes in the rain forests, and delivering basic medical care. At one of the tribal villages there had been a seven-year-old boy, a small lad for his age, ravaged by a cougar. There had been nothing he could do. If he'd been near a hospital, maybe, but there in the midst of the jungle with only rudimentary supplies, the golden hour had passed, and with it so had the boy.

Sheppard had made his decision. He adjusted the path again, examining the display for a clear location south of the gate where they could land. He understood Beckett's fears, but McKay had good instincts, and if you were to examine the possible outcomes of this disaster that had been the trip to M3M-552, things weren't looking so hot. There weren't any nearby planets with gates, and the Jumper could travel for weeks to reach the nearest gate. He wasn't willing to consign all of them to that kind of trip without exhausting all other options first. He'd give McKay his chance.

"We'll go on foot," Sheppard announced, and he didn't leave any doubt that it was an order. He reached for a tissue at the same time as McKay, and looked up, surprised to see Rodney staring at him as well.

Words not spoken passed between them, an acknowledgement of John's trust in McKay's advice. A silent thank you, and a promise to not let the other down. John looked away after grabbing the next Kleenex. "Make sure you take plenty of ammo. I don't want to be caught on the menu, _again_."

As the others made their way out of the Jumper after loading their gear, Sheppard called Beckett back, "Doc?"

Beckett was half out the hatch, and turned back, "Aye?"

"Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Beckett headed back into the vehicle, up towards the front hatch where Sheppard was leaning against the bulkhead door. "What do you need, Major?"

It took all John had to admit to any weakness, but the truth of it was, he was feeling like warmed up two-day garbage. "I need something to keep me going. Not feeling so hot."

Beckett was startled by Sheppard's admission. He lifted a hand without a thought to the Major's forehead and wasn't happy to feel the heat radiate out from the Major's skin. "Worse than this morning?" he asked sharply.

John nodded. Truth be told, he felt _a lot_ worse than earlier. "Just give me something to keep me on my feet."

"This isn't going to work for long, but it should keep you upright for a while." Beckett handed him a couple of pills he had dug out of his bag.

"Give McKay something also. He needs to be at his best more than I do once we find this lab of the Ancients."

Beckett grimaced. "If we find it."

Sheppard shook his head. "Not _if_, we will."

He headed towards the exit. Beckett tossed the bottle into his bag and called after the Major, "Let me know if you feel worse."

John didn't look back. "Can do," he replied.

Beckett sighed. "Sure you will," he murmured to no one.

* * *

The sting of another broad leaf slapping his face caused John to wince. He was leading the team through the dense undergrowth, following a path that McKay had decided upon. The rain forest was thick with branches, leaves, trees, vines, and moss. Anything that could possibly grow, grew here. He had hoped to clear a path, but as soon as he released a branch or vine, it would snap back to its original location with an almost human defiance. 

Sheppard was wet. His jacket was damp, his head dripping, pants and socks waterlogged. The air was saturated with moisture, and it collected on the plants, transferring to their clothes and bodies as they worked their way through the forest. His hair clung to his forehead, while sweat congealed and mixed with pure rainwater on his skin. It was as uncomfortable as he'd been in a long time. When they'd taken a swim in the river, that'd been a clean wet, dangerous, but not dirty. This was something different. He could feel dirt caking in cracks he'd rather not think of. The tangy taste of sweat dripping onto his lip reminded him of the need to get some water. It was ironic that in the middle of such abundant moisture, you could die from dehydration.

"Let's take a break," John called.

"Finally," McKay grouched. "I was beginning to think you'd walk us till we passed out."

Sheppard smiled in a noncommittal way. "What's the fun of that?"

Rodney was on the verge of replying; something Sheppard figured would probably be caustic and equally rude, when McKay sneezed, spraying the air to John's side. "Bless you."

McKay waved an impatient hand. "Thanks," he said, conveying his disgust in the one word.

Teyla had approached Sheppard, on stealthy footsteps from years of hunting experience. She held out her canteen, "You need to drink."

Sheppard knew he did. "Yes, but not yours." He didn't know how the Athosian would react to this virus, and he wasn't willing to find out if they could help it. He was keeping his distance, and avoiding touching anything of hers. He reached over and picked up McKay's jug that was resting by his boot. Rodney had found a spot on a log that had fallen to time, and seemed clear of anything harmful. "Thanks McKay."

"You're welcome," Rodney said, not being bothered. John hadn't brought his own canteen because of the extra ammo. It went without saying the two were stuck sharing as they were the only ones sick, for now. "But I get the chocolate power bar."

Sheppard screwed the lid back on, and set the bottle by McKay, pulling out two energy bars, one chocolate, and one peanut butter. Peanut butter wasn't his favorite but he guessed he'd let McKay have his pick, _this time_. "You're in luck," he tossed the package to Rodney.

"Ford, you and Beckett stay with McKay. Teyla, come with me." Sheppard wanted to scout ahead while the others rested. He eyed the slivers of darkening sky above. They would need to head back to the Jumper soon if they couldn't find the building. He hadn't seen any sign of cougars, or snakes, but nocturnal animals would be a danger he wasn't willing to risk.

He and Teyla worked their way ahead, forging through the growth. Teyla worked alongside him, quiet for a time before speaking her mind. "You seem troubled, Major."

Sheppard had a different relationship with Teyla than McKay, and even Ford. He was usually more honest and open with her. She had a keenness that often saw right through him so he didn't figure it was worth pretending, or putting her off. "It's getting dark."

"And you are worried because we haven't found the Ancient's building?"

"Yes, that," he wanted to say the rest of what was bothering him, but that was unburdening his mind, and he wasn't sure he was up to letting that out right now.

"I believe Doctor McKay would not have suggested this if he weren't certain it was here," Teyla said.

"I know that, Teyla. It's just, I don't know," John struggled to find the right words. "There's something wrong here."

Teyla eyed him with confusion. "Here?"

"Yes, _here_, this planet. Something's not right." Sheppard didn't know how else to explain his feelings, but there was a crawling in his gut, and it was telling him to watch out. It wasn't the animals, the bugs, or the fact that he was sick. There was something else, and no matter how he tried to pin it down, it eluded him like a firefly in the twilight sky. "Let's head back, I don't see anything."

Teyla was about to agree when she noticed something odd about the plant life in front of them. "Major "

John turned to look at what had grabbed her attention. The jungle had been full of a multitude of plants, varying in size, thickness, and colors, but in front of them was what he could only describe as a solid wall of plants. The vines were gnarled, thick, and black, like the dark nutrient rich soil you would find in a garden. Thin leaves jutted out in every direction, and it all had an air of old age, hanging over it like drapes in a kitchen window. Some branches had withered under the eons of days, and the persistent pull of gravity, despite the lush promise of life. It was different from the other areas they had seen up till this point.

Sheppard clicked his radio. "McKay, get up here."

* * *

McKay placed a tentative hand against one of the vines. "How do we get in?" 

"I was hoping you'd have an idea." Sheppard had explained to Rodney what they'd found. It had only taken minutes for the others to catch up to Teyla and John's location. John had been able to wedge a stick in a small hole and press inward till he'd hit something solid.

"Can't you think us in, like you did on that frozen planet?" Beckett asked.

Sheppard fixed a disgruntled stare on Carson.

"Right, sorry."

"Assuming that the systems aren't operational, the only way in would be the old fashioned way," McKay said, while he was pulling and prodding at different locations, grunting with the exertion in between words.

Teyla frowned. "Old fashioned way?"

"The front door," Ford explained, reaching in and helping with the search.

"We need a machete," McKay exclaimed.

Sheppard agreed, but they didn't have one. "Are you going to go back to the Jumper, fly to the Wolf gate, and contact Atlantis for one?" When it came down to it, they might need to. These plants had thousands of years to overcome the building that lie underneath, and it wouldn't give with a few tugs.

"Pull, Major," McKay replied, grabbing on a particularly thick arm of a vine, and giving a vicious tug. Surprisingly, the plant gave, and cracked with a loudness that echoed all around, like a gunshot in a quiet night, startling birds, and sending them flying from their perches with angry squawks.

_Or not_, Sheppard thought, startled by the obvious brittleness of the vine. They gathered around the dark opening the branch had revealed when it split away from the other vines. John peered in, seeing what looked like a never-ending black hole, swallowing all light that leeched in towards the breach. He held out his hand, "Give me the flashlight."

Ford handed the small handheld light, and Sheppard took it, aiming it inwards, and was able to make out definite walls. "There's something there. We need to make this hole bigger."

John put the light in his mouth, and started pulling back on the thinner branches, widening the opening. Teyla, Ford and Beckett joined in, while McKay got out his energy reading device. "Anything?" John asked, ripping back one of the larger branches, and falling backwards from the force when it finally gave up the fight.

McKay shook his head. "Nothing. Whatever is in there, it's dead as a doornail. Not even enough to power a light bulb."

It didn't take long to widen the haphazard entrance to a size where they could squeeze through, but Sheppard felt as if he'd run a marathon, and then biked another twenty miles. He regarded the way in with a mixed measure of relief and uncertainty. He wiped a hand across his forehead, trying to clear some of the itchy sweat away, "You think this is the Ancients building, or maybe something else?"

McKay didn't know. He was making an assumption that it was the Ancients that had created all that they had found on this planet. The multiple gates, the zoo-like quality to the climates in the different locations, but it was an assumption, a paradigm that could be based upon a fallacy in judgment. "You know as much as I do," he finally said.

That didn't help a whole lot, but it wasn't meant to. John shrugged his shoulders, shifting his pack into a more comfortable position, and took another swipe at his face as an errant drop weaved down the side of his face. "I'll go first, Ford, you follow, then McKay and Beckett. Teyla, take the rear."

Sheppard didn't wait for acknowledgement, he didn't expect any. He crept forward and hunched over, putting his right leg in, and bending his back down, pushing his torso in, before pulling his left leg after the rest of his body. It had been a tight fit, but he'd made it. He swung the light around the room, stunned by what it revealed. "It's clear!" he shouted in the general direction of the entrance, walking into the middle of the room.

"I think they need to hire a new interior decorator," Ford joked, after he had crawled in, and surveyed the same scene that Sheppard had.

"Lieutenant, it's been abandoned for ten-thousand years, what do you think it would look like, the Ritz?" McKay snapped.

"Atlantis didn't look like this."

"Atlantis had a shield."

"Ford, McKay, shut up," Sheppard said. "Spread out, look for other doors, consoles, anything."

The room was a wreck, and that was probably being optimistic. Whatever materials the Ancients had used, nature had proven the superior opponent, because great chunks of walls and ceiling lay scattered on the floor, fallen with no rhyme or reason, but for the wasting power of erosion and time. An earthy smell permeated the room, stinking like fungus and decay. It was dank, and dark, and altogether unpleasant.

John scanned for anything that resembled a console, and found nothing. It was probably an outer room, maybe their version of a mudroom, where the workers could come in from outside and clean up before entering the main complex. He hoped that was the case, because their hopes had been for nothing if it weren't.

"I found something!" McKay shouted from the other end of the room. It wasn't a big room, probably fifteen by fifteen, if that, so Rodney's shout had more to do with elation than a need to be heard from far away.

Sheppard made fast time to McKay's location, relieved to see the scientist was standing in front of what could only be a door, and it was going into the complex. "Can you open it?"

"I'm trying."

"Try _harder_," Sheppard urged. How many times had he said that to McKay under similar pressure? Every time always seemed more urgent than the last.

The door opened. Just like that. One minute it was shut, and Sheppard was praying to every deity he'd ever heard about, and the next it was open, revealing something none of them expected.


	10. Transported in Time

**

* * *

Chapter Ten**

**Transported in Time

* * *

**

"Someone pinch me," John whispered. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. The door had opened to reveal a room as untouched by the ravages of time, as the outer room _had_ been touched. There was a balcony, probably four feet or so in, with rails that came up to a standard size adult's hip. The metal was unadorned, burnished golden, similar to what they had seen in Atlantis. That alone wasn't the source of awe, but what lay beyond.

The room opened up from the balcony, like a great big meadow cut out from the land, and transported inside. The walkway circled the room, and Sheppard could vaguely see what were doors in different areas, and additional levels above and below them. What bothered him was the size of this complex. From the outside, little could be detected, but a building this large; they should have seen _something_.

John jumped from a sharp pain, like a bug bite, and he turned to glare in the direction of the individual standing beside him on the side where his arm had been pinched. "I didn't mean it literally," he ground out.

McKay shrugged, and wandered onto the walkway. "This is amazing."

"Aye," Beckett breathed. "What kept it preserved?"

John thought that was a good question. "You said there weren't any energy readings?"

"That's odd, there still isn't," Rodney's brow furrowed. "Shielding could account for it not showing before, but there should be something now."

They had all moved onto the walkway, and the door slid shut behind them. Sheppard glanced back, uneasy. "You can open that again, right?"

"Yes, simple enough really," and Rodney touched a few buttons on the console, surprised when the door failed to yield the proper result. McKay stared at the door, disconcerted by the inaction, "It should've opened," he said.

Ford tried to pry the doors apart, banging against them uselessly. He felt like he was back in time, throwing his body against the Jumper's doors, hoping to generate movement enough to send it into the wormhole. Again, his actions had the same result, which was none at all.

"Stop it," McKay grabbed Ford's wrist. "It's not going to open."

"What are we supposed to do?" he shouted, déjà vu again.

Sheppard grabbed the body of his P90, resting his arm as much as preparing for the worst. "Looks like we get to look around." John started walking to the right, not having a preference between the two options, hoping they'd find an elevator because it was a long way down.

* * *

They hadn't found an elevator, and after going down twenty levels, Sheppard was about to call it a night. He was fighting hard to not let it show how hard he was breathing. Everyone except Ford and Teyla were showing signs of exertion, but he and McKay seemed the worst of the group.

The levels had meandered down, like a brook twisting around a hillside, a slow inexorable progress downwards, but it never seemed like you were going the right direction until you looked back and saw how far you'd come. He could see the end in front of him. The area they were in had just enough lighting to allow visualization of the surroundings. He hadn't noticed any light fixtures, yet the metal glowed, reflecting a dim constant warm illumination. He knew the end was ahead because there wasn't any light, just a solid pitch black.

John stifled a jaw-breaking yawn, and smiled when he saw his action repeated by McKay. Whatever the bottom floor yielded, they'd need to call it a day soon, because at least two of them weren't going to make it much farther. "Teyla," Sheppard called. "The rest of you hang back." He didn't know what they'd find. The low lighting hadn't allowed anything beyond vague shadowy shapes of the interior.

Teyla approached him, and they found an entrance inwards, right where he thought they would. He stepped forward, and was blinded by light flooding the room. "What the "

"Major!" McKay shouted.

Sheppard turned back to tell McKay he was okay, but there wasn't a door, and there wasn't a Rodney. He looked at Teyla, confused, "Where'd they go?"

Teyla shook her head. "I do not know."

John's eyes were adjusting to the change in brightness, and what he saw left him more dumbfounded than ever. Somewhere, deep inside, he was debating whether this was all some weird hallucination, and he'd wake up in the infirmary, with Beckett telling him he'd be alright soon.

Before he'd had much time to ponder the situation, McKay, Ford and Beckett appeared beside them. "Glad you could join us," Sheppard said wryly.

"You disappeared. One minute you were there, than the next, gone, we figured if we walked in where you did " McKay said, his words running together from nervousness. He seemed to trail off, as he noticed the surroundings. "Oh, my."

"This place is getting entirely too weird." Sheppard was looking at a room full of display cubes, and inside those cubes were animals. Some he wasn't familiar with, but most he definitely recognized, and some he wished he hadn't. In one cube was a Tyrannosaurus Rex, in another a Diplodocus, and that had to be a Triceratops behind the other. Everywhere he looked were pods filled with extinct animals. Mammoths, Mastodons and other smaller cases, some miniscule, and containing what he couldn't imagine.

McKay wasn't thinking weird, he was thinking incredible. "Do you realize what this means?"

For once Beckett wasn't the only one who wasn't following McKay. Sheppard didn't know what McKay was getting at. "That the Ancients liked to collect extinct animals?"

"No, Major," McKay almost seemed deflated that John hadn't given him the answer he was looking for. "The Ancients created the dinosaurs!"

Ford looked at McKay like he was off his rocker. "That's a big assumption."

"Why?" McKay gestured at the pods, and everyone followed his hand, and looked at the rows and rows, as far as the eyes could see, and as far as the room stretched, there were pods. "They seeded human life. Maybe, it wasn't _all_ they seeded."

"What are these dinosaurs?" Teyla asked, the only one of the group who appeared unaffected by their find.

"They were a type of animal, they died off millennia ago on our planet, we're talking hundreds of thousands of years." Rodney pointed at the nearest specimen, "This, _this_ is a dinosaur," he gestured at the Tyrannosaurus Rex.

Beckett wasn't ready to buy McKay's theory. "The Ancients haven't been around for that long."

"You don't know that, _we_ don't know that," McKay refuted. "Look, we know the Ancients have been alive for a long time. Ten thousand years ago, they were incredibly advanced, how long were they at that level? We don't know, but we do know they have been around for a very, very long time. They created the gates. They were one of the four races; allied with the Asgard, Nox, and the Furlings."

Sheppard didn't know the entire back-story, but he had heard of the Asgard in his inbrief. "Maybe they just kept specimens when they became extinct?"

"Maybe they didn't," McKay said, obstinately.

Sheppard didn't back down either. "Maybe you're making a lot of assumptions."

"My assumptions are usually right."

"Not always." The second that left his mouth, Sheppard wanted to take it back. It fell flat, and unwieldy between them, an unwelcome visitor reminding the two how they'd ended up in this place to begin with. The disaster with Gaul and Abrams, the Hive ship debacle continuing in space, and then here. It seemed to haunt their footsteps, even when they thought they were far enough away to escape the past.

McKay flinched, but held anything else inside. "There have been exceptions," he said evenly.

"McKay, I didn't mean  "

"We should spread out, see if there's another room down here, a command center, or something," Rodney interrupted Sheppard's apology, looking away, pretending the hurt wasn't there, but he wasn't fooling anyone.

Sheppard saw the disapproving look from Teyla before she shifted her attention elsewhere. Beckett was watching them with the concerned physician's mask, and Ford was painfully looking anywhere but at them. "Fine," John wasn't going to give him exactly what he wanted. "McKay, you're with me. Beckett, Ford and Teyla, take the right side, we'll take the left."

John saw the panic flash across Rodney's face, and thought he'd protest, but he remained quiet. Sheppard wasn't naïve enough to take that for compliance. The other three moved away from them, and he started walking along the wall that was the far left edge of this room. Their boots echoed in the vast room on a floor that reminded him of the museums from back home, marble and cold, but this wasn't marble. He was sure if he touched it, he'd find it warm.

They walked in silence. It wasn't that Sheppard didn't want to talk to McKay, though he was sure it was that for Rodney's part, but he didn't know where to start. They'd made progress, repairing the damage to both their souls, and then he went and screwed it up with two words. Funny how words could seem so little, so damn harmless, a few letters put together, and with them, everything changed. It wasn't near as funny as he wished it were. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean  "

"I know," McKay said curtly, cutting him off before he could finish.

"No, you don't," Sheppard said angrily. "Or maybe you do, and you just don't want to listen, or believe it."

McKay sneezed, pulling a tissue from his jacket, and wiping his nose. He turned towards Sheppard, "No, I do, but I got us into this mess, and I'm trying to get us out. This is all my fault, Major, _again_."

Sheppard stopped, "What do you mean, _your fault_?"

"I'm the one that wanted to go to the planet," McKay pierced him with a haunted look that Sheppard knew he'd never forget. "I'm the one who wanted to land on that Hive ship. It's always me, Major, _my_ ideas. I'm a liability, and it's time you realized that."

"I don't believe this, are you really that arrogant to think that we all just follow along behind the Good Ship McKay?" Sheppard barked, throwing his hands up, and turning his back on Rodney. He was too tired to deal with this.

"The Good Ship McKay?"

John turned back and saw McKay smiling, a weak parody, but it was a start. "It was the best I could come up with."

"Keep your day job."

Sheppard figured he deserved that. He turned back to the front, back towards the way they were heading before giving in to emotions and past regrets. They hadn't made it very far. "Let's go, we've got a lot of room to explore." He left a lot unsaid, both of them did, but a measure of peace had been achieved in the short outburst. John hoped that this time he wouldn't screw it up by letting his mouth get ahead of his brain.

* * *

Despite his intentions for calling it a day, John had gotten sucked into exploring the room. It fell into that problem they all had with an inability to let a puzzle remain unsolved. It was a singular trait that all the members of Atlantis shared, an insatiable curiosity, and everyone knows that saying about curiosity and the cat.

Their lives weren't in immediate danger, but Sheppard had reached his limit, and he knew it. His legs were feeling alarmingly lethargic, weighted down, and stiff. His arm had resumed its steady beating in concert with his pulse. He stifled another sneeze, and searched his pocket for another tissue. He'd lost all track of time without the cues from Mother Nature. He twisted his wrist to see what time it was, and swore to himself, because he'd forgotten _again_ that his watch had been the first victim to fall on this trip.

"It's twenty-three hundred, Major." McKay had noticed his actions.

"That late?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

John sighed, because he supposed it was. He knew it was late. He was a little thrown that it was _that_ late, but his body had been telling him even if his mind hadn't listened. "Let's call it quits, get Beckett on the line, and have him come to us."

Rodney pressed the key, "Beckett, we're quitting for the night, Sheppard wants us to meet here. Head straight across the room, you'll run into us eventually, we're against the far wall."

John tossed his pack to the ground; thankful he hadn't left it back at the entrance. He dropped down, suddenly wondering if he'd left enough energy to set up camp and eat. He was beginning to wonder if it would ever end. This mission just seemed to be one question after another, and the unanswered questions were piling up at a faster rate than they could discover answers. He let his head fall against his knees, and felt the rough fabric against his hot skin.

"Major?"

John kept his head down. "I'm okay. Just tired. It's been a long day."

Sheppard felt the air shift from Rodney's movements. McKay had sat next to him. Rodney sneezed, and sniffled, and made a lot of noise getting comfortable. It was quiet for a few minutes and John sat still, dozing in a fatigued state, but not really asleep. He noticed for the first time that the complex was emitting a soft and subtle hum. He felt it through the floor, a floor that was as warm as he suspected, and he heard it in the air. "It's alive," he murmured.

"What?"

John had forgotten McKay was next to him. He lifted his head. "The complex. It's alive."

Rodney's eyes widened. "That's impossible. Buildings aren't sentient," he dismissed.

But Sheppard knew he was right. His pupils dilated, and he stared towards the ceiling, that's what he'd felt, but couldn't put words or rational supposition to. "Can't you hear it?"

McKay lifted a finger to his mouth, and bit on the edge, before pulling his fingertip away, wet from saliva. "You're freaking me out, Major," he muttered under his breath.

John wasn't listening to McKay anymore; he was focused again on the building. The hum was a foreign song, and he was fighting to understand the message. A headache was growing behind his eyes, a small ache, seeping around inside his skull, like melting jello. "Listen, McKay," and he touched a hand to Rodney's knee.

McKay stilled the bouncing of his leg, and the chewing of his nail, and gave Sheppard the benefit of the doubt, and he listened. He closed his eyes, and tried to let the extraneous thoughts stop, for even a heartbeat of time. At first, he heard nothing, but his own ragged breaths, and the Major's slower rhythm, _then_, a slight change in his perception, a fringe on the edge of his peripheral awareness. He focused his thoughts on that fringe, and it grew. It was a steady progress of a background noise that his mind had dismissed as unimportant. It was there, and he knew what Sheppard meant. "It _is_ alive," he said, startled.

"What's alive?" Beckett was standing over them, Teyla and Ford on either side, and all three were staring at them with worry.

Sheppard realized they looked like stoned teenagers. "The building."

Ford didn't buy it. "It's a _building_," he said, dumbfounded, and then remembered himself, "Sir."

Beckett crouched in front of the two men; concerned that something had happened while they had been separated. "Major, look at me son."

John looked up as instructed, focused his eyes on Beckett, and reached out, his hand moved in slow motion, for his perception, and he touched Beckett on his knee. "Listen," he said.

Carson stared at Sheppard, but it was as if someone had removed a blindfold, and he felt the rushing in of input, a computer switched on, and he understood. "Bloody hell, they're right."

Ford was getting upset. "Have you all lost your minds? A building can't be alive!"

Teyla wasn't giving in to emotions to the degree that Lieutenant Ford was, but she was worried. Major Sheppard and Doctor McKay had looked like someone had given them a drug, and when Sheppard had touched Beckett he'd fallen under whatever was affecting the other two.

"It's not what you think," Sheppard said, reading Teyla's thoughts. "I think it's the gene. We can hear it because of the gene."

McKay was nodding affirmative before Sheppard had finished talking. "It makes sense, and you heard it first, just like everything." He managed to say it without sounding to disgruntled.

The skin under John's eyes was sunken, and shadowed. He shook his head, trying to shake off the stupor of the language. "Whatever it is, I can't make heads or tails of it right now. We need to set up camp, and we'll have to do watches."

Ford wasn't going to admit that he was feeling like someone had transported him into some ghost tale, and the thought of being the only one awake in this cavernous room, while the others slept, gave him the willies, but he didn't like how rough the Major and McKay looked. "I'll take first watch."

Beckett and McKay shook it off as well, shutting out the constant hum that seemed all the louder for the recognition of it. Everyone pitched in, and bags were unrolled, and the military's version of a dinner was served. Sheppard had hardly enough energy to get his eaten before he set the package aside, and let his eyes close. He suffered through one more sneeze, and a harsh cough, and surrendered into the arms of the sweet gentle caress of Morpheus.

McKay sought out an additional tissue, and wished he'd thought to use the bathroom. He'd have to deal with it soon, but for now, he'd go to sleep and leave that problem for later. They'd all have to figure that one out before long. He slipped into his bag, thankful for the bulky object that not long ago he'd wanted to burn rather than pack up. He ached, and he knew the cotton warmth would be soothing, for as long as he'd get to sleep.

Rodney felt Beckett creep across the foot of his bag. "What are you doing?" he whispered.

"I've got to clean his arm, and give him antibiotics," Carson whispered back. "I was waiting for him to fall asleep. He's a lot easier to deal with when he's unconscious."

McKay started to nod in agreement, when a thought occurred to him, "Just how often do you do this?"

Beckett grinned, his teeth gleaming white in his broad smile, "More than you want to know, Rodney." He handed some pills over to McKay. "Take these, you'll be needing them if you want any sleep at all tonight."

Rodney thought about asking what they were, but as he watched Carson begin to work on John's arm, he thought better of it. It didn't matter, short of being arsenic; he could care less what was in those white pills. He just wanted to sleep. Teyla handed his water over, and he swallowed them quickly, handing the canteen back. "Thanks."

"You are welcome. Rest," Teyla instructed softly.

A quiet fell over the rough camp. McKay drifted off, not a surprise, as the pills Beckett had given him had a liberal dose of sedative. Carson finished cleaning Sheppard's infected arm, and gave him another injection of antibiotic with Motrin, and cleaned up his supplies. "I'll take second watch," he volunteered, after scooting across to his bed.

"And I will take third," Teyla added.

Ford looked at the still forms of McKay and the Major. "Do you think they'll wake up before morning?"

Beckett didn't think they'd wake up on their own before anything. "They'll be out of it for a while, Lieutenant. I'm sure we'll hear about it in the morning." It had been a tacit agreement that the three healthy members would split the watches, and they'd allow the other two to sleep.

Ford smiled tightly, his exuberance diminished greatly by recent events. "Get to sleep Doc, I'll wake you in a few hours."

Beckett didn't need to be told twice. He pulled the top of the bag up to his neck, and tucked his head inwards, seeking that small sense of security, even if it was a false one.


	11. Deus, Meus Deus

AN: This chapter might upset some people. I want to say that this is a work of fiction. I am not in any way inferring that this chapter represents reality. It is based upon a fictional television show, and therefore it is not my personal feelings or belief, but a story meant to enterain. I love to create plots that shock, or keep you on the edge of your seat, or even leave you thinking "What the..." so please keep that in mind when reading. Thanks Gaffer for the Beta!

**

* * *

Chapter Eleven**

**Deus, Meus Deus (God, My God)

* * *

**

Ford paced the length of their camp. Out of boredom, and an attempt at keeping himself awake and alert, he had counted out the steps. It was forty steps up, forty steps back. Twenty seconds up, twenty seconds back. Ten breaths in, and ten breaths out. The night was winding it's way out at a snail's pace.

It had been uneventful. For the past two hours he hadn't heard anything, but the quiet, regular inhalations and exhalations of the others. It was a small source of comfort in this eerie mausoleum, assuring him that he wasn't alone. He turned on a heel; _one, two, three_.

He had made it to twenty-three when he heard something new. He froze, holding even his breath, and listened. _There_! He heard a small sound of feet on the floor, coming their way, a click-clacking, as if long pointy finger nails where being tapped upon a table out of boredom. He crept to the Major's side, praying Beckett was wrong, and he could wake him up. He didn't speak, but shook the Major roughly. Sheppard started to wake, and Ford quickly placed a finger on the Major's lips, so he wouldn't speak out loud.

John came awake, and before he could ask what was wrong, the finger against his lips by Ford brought him instantly alert. His eyes snapped open the rest of the way, and he pushed himself up, silently, and quickly. Ford gestured towards the middle of the room, and mimicked feet walking by moving his index and middle finger of his right hand in a walking motion in the air. Sheppard nodded, and grabbed Ford's arm, pointing at him to wake the others.

It didn't take long before everyone was assembled, their backs to the wall, and eyes forward, weapons gripped as tight as their nerves were stretched. Their uniforms were rumpled, eyes bloodshot, but each and every one of them, including Beckett, stood prepared to face the imminent unknown. The echoes of the footsteps were growing nearer. Somebody was approaching their location. Not a word was uttered.

Sheppard was the first to see him. As the man walked towards them, lights lit up, as if he were throwing unseen switches, as he progressed towards them. His clothes were the same color as the Ancient woman in the holographic message they'd seen back in Atlantis. It was eggshell white; he knew that because of his ex-girlfriend. She had talked him into helping paint her living room last summer. He'd thought the color was as boring as her, and it'd been his parting gift to their relationship. She'd been more interested in decorating, and planning their future, rather than working on the relationship itself.

The man also seemed old, an _ancient_ Ancient. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Sheppard smiled. He seemed fragile, white hair, and lined features with wrinkles so deep you wondered where one stopped and a new one began. John swallowed. There hadn't been any sense in hiding. This guy obviously knew they were here. The good news was he didn't seem to be armed.

"Welcome to Gero," the man said, opening his arms wide, in a welcoming offer.

Sheppard stepped forward. "I'm Major -"

"John Sheppard," the old man smiled. "I know who you are, Major. And you, Lieutenant Ford, Doctor McKay, Teyla Emmagen, and Doctor Beckett."

"I'm sorry," Sheppard cocked his head slightly, puzzled. "Have we met?" John knew they hadn't but in this corner of the galaxy stranger things had happened. It was a polite way of saying, _who the hell are you, and how do you know us._

The man shook his head, and smiled kindly. "No, my name is Gigno. This is my home." He swept his hands wide again, an encompassing of the room.

"This is your home?" McKay asked. "_You_ built this? Are you an Ancient?" he asked bluntly. Rodney was making the assumption between line A and line B. Ancient building, Ancient body, equals Ancient being.

Gigno smiled noncommittally. "I am who I am, Doctor McKay. If that is an Ancient for your people, then I am an Ancient."

"What is the purpose of this building?" Teyla was certain that they had many questions, but she wanted to see what level of information this being would offer. Usually those that should be feared would offer little, while those who could be trusted, offered much.

"I believe there are many questions, but perhaps we might retire to better accommodations?" Gigno offered, a hand indicated back the way he'd come. "I have food, and we may discuss everything in comfort."

Sheppard tried to get a feel for this man. There weren't any alarms ringing in his heart, or mind, and Gigno seemed entirely harmless, but that bothered him more than anything. An old man, by himself, with no defenses? The odds were that he _did_ have defenses, and lulling strangers into underestimating his abilities was probably a tactic.

"Can we have a moment to discuss this?" Sheppard asked.

Gigno nodded, amicably. "I understand."

John turned to the others, and with tacit agreement, they walked a short way from the old man. McKay was the most vocal, no surprise. "I think we should go."

"Why? What if it's a trap?" Sheppard countered.

"What's he going to do, Major, beat you to death with his cane?"

John wanted to point out the old man didn't have a cane, but he knew McKay's barb wasn't meant to be taken at face value. His point was that the old man probably wouldn't stand a chance in hell of hurting a flea, let alone trained soldiers. "Appearances can be deceiving, McKay, you should know that."

Teyla put her arm between the two men, who had unwittingly gotten closer to each other. "Major, Doctor McKay, stop it, both of you." She waited till both men pulled back. She wasn't going to let them get involved in exchanging words. "He may have the answers we need, Major." McKay brightened, thinking Teyla was supporting his stance, but his smile fell as she continued. "He may pose a threat as well."

"You're a lot of help," Beckett said, flustered by the turn of events.

Teyla glared at the Scotsman. "I am merely saying we should listen to the old man, but be careful as well."

John realized one member hadn't voiced an opinion. "Ford?" he prodded.

Ford was holding his weapon more loosely than before, and for a change seemed to be the most relaxed of all of them. "I agree with Teyla."

"That's it?" John looked at his second-in-command with surprise. "You agree with Teyla? No words of wisdom or warnings?"

"No, Sir."

Sheppard looked back at Gigno, who offered a friendly wave when he saw the Major's attention falling on him. He looked the epitome of innocence, like someone's favorite Grandpa, picking up the kids for a fishing trip in July. John turned back to his team. "We'll go, _but_, be careful, for all we know he's looking at making an addition to his little collection."

Sheppard walked up to the old man. "We accept your _generous_ offer. If you can give us a few minutes, we'll clean up our mess."

Gigno peered around Sheppard at their rough camp. "It's not necessary, Major. Your belongings will be safe where they are."

Sheppard shrugged, casting a look at the others, who seemed to offer the same indifferent opinion. They'd leave the gear behind, but take their weapons. He wasn't eager to put themselves in a position of total dependence. "Lead the way," he held his hand out.

Gigno inclined his head ever so slightly, and turned, leading them back the way he had come. "I see you have suffered an injury."

"A misunderstanding with some of the local wildlife," John explained.

"Misunderstanding?" the old man asked, looking at Sheppard out of the corner of his eyes, as he led them through a row of cubes. In one of the cubes was a Trilobite.

"It thought we were dinner."

"I see," Gigno paused. "You didn't hurt the animal, did you?"

Sheppard felt a spike of discomfort. Gigno was continuing to lead them towards the center of the room, and though his question seemed to leave only one option for a preferred answer, he didn't seem to be the type to anger easily. Still, while John didn't naturally believe in lying, he was strangely reluctant to admit in killing the wolf.

"Of course we hurt it," McKay said scornfully, rescuing Sheppard from his predicament. "If we hadn't, we'd be dead."

John noticed McKay didn't mention, however, the many they'd shot down around the gate. Guess even Rodney realized truth could be selective. "_I _had to," Sheppard clarified, not wanting McKay to take the blame.

Gigno didn't seem unduly concerned, but John thought he'd seen a momentary wince of regret. "I understand," he gestured at a console that was now apparent in the middle of the room. They'd managed to trek to the very center of the complex's main room. "If you would stand in the middle, please?"

"Major," Beckett leaned towards Sheppard. "Are we _certain_ he isn't going to stick us in one of those cubes?"

Carson had voiced a growing concern of his. John decided they wouldn't be standing in the middle unless the man himself joined them. Before he could say anything to that effect, Gigno had stepped into the area he'd indicated for the others.

Sheppard took that step, getting into position next to Gigno, and giving his teammates the silent signal that it was okay. The others joined them in short order, and John felt his body seem to freeze, and then it was as if a fish hook had grabbed him on his shoulders, and yanked him up. The room spun away in a nauseating spiral, and he closed his eyes in an attempt to steady his world. That was a heck of a way to travel.

When he felt his feet settle, he opened his eyes, and was surprised to find that they'd been transported to a room that closely resembled a lounge type café. There were longer chairs for stretching out, normal chairs tucked under a few tables, and in one corner of the room stood a machine that was half the length of the wall, and filled with buttons and slots. The chairs had generous padding and were a pleasing burgundy color, while the tables were a dark blue; the kind of blue you saw when night had just barely taken over from the day, and the sky hadn't quite turned to black. "Nice," he said finally, when his queasiness had passed.

McKay was also recovering from the trip, swallowing frequently as if trying to keep his stomach contents in place. "What is this, art deco?"

Gigno didn't seem to take offense to Rodney's comment. "You like the colors, Doctor McKay?"

"A little on the garish side for me," Rodney wasn't big on contrasting colors. Keep it simple and subtle, a color that you never noticed was there, and that's all he needed. This was too distracting. He'd never be able to concentrate in a loud room such as this. Carson elbowed McKay. "It's interesting," McKay said defensively, after offering a small shove back.

"Would you like to sit?" Gigno indicated a group of chairs around a table nearest the machine on the wall. "Are you hungry, or thirsty?"

"I'm fine," Ford said, but he was the first to take a seat, reclining appreciatively.

Sheppard wouldn't mind something to drink. His fever had dehydrated him, and he was thirsty for the biggest glass of water he could find. "Water?" he asked hopefully. Why not take advantage of a good thing when you had it? He didn't know when the other shoe would fall, but so far, this Gigno was offering them luxury and relief.

Carson took a seat by Ford, and Teyla and McKay settled beside him. The table was oblong, so it wound up that the members from Atlantis took up the entire back side of the table. Sheppard took a seat beside McKay, and realized how right Ford was, the chair was like sitting on a cloud, one of those really fluffy, white ones, that you just know would feel like puffs of cotton on your face.

"Here, Major Sheppard," Gigno handed him a tall glass in a clear cup, before taking a seat on the other side of the table, so that he faced the group. "I know you have many questions, please, ask away. I will do my best to provide answers."

All five regarded one another. The problem was, who would go first? Sheppard was the leader, but McKay was the scientist. John nodded at McKay, allowing him to start off the question and answering session.

"What is this place? It's alive, isn't it?" Rodney's eyes bored holes into the old man, intense in his need for an explanation.

"Cunabula spiritus," Gigno said wistfully. "Eons ago, there was nothing, and I created this place. It is," he seemed to search for a word, his heavy white brows scrunching together, "omnigenus." Gigno didn't seem content with the word he'd found, but seemed to have been unable to find anything better.

"_Omnigenus_, of all kinds," McKay translated. "_Cunabula spiritus_, cradle of life. The building is a womb?"

Gigno considered Rodney's comparison and conclusion, and seemed to find it acceptable. "Yes, that is a close approximation."

Sheppard leaned his elbows forward on the table. "So those cubes, those are samples, or - "

"Exemplum."

John turned to McKay. "Model, pattern," Rodney supplied.

Sheppard nodded, and faced Gigno again. "They're blueprints?"

"That would be sufficiently accurate," Gigno replied.

McKay slapped a hand on the table. "I'm an idiot, _Gero_, _gero_, to bear, to give birth to! This is the place from which the Ancients created the seedlings of the galaxies."

Gigno remained aloof, but didn't refute McKay's connections. McKay's mind was winding up like a spinner top with the ripcord pulled out, "_Gigno_, to bring forth, beget, _father_," McKay emphasized father with dawning realization. Connections were being made and he was stringing it all together to form one conclusion. "_Deus_!"

Sheppard recognized that word. "_God_," he breathed. "Do you realize what you are saying?"

Gigno smiled. "He knows, Major Sheppard."

John pulled his attention off a stunned McKay, and focused on the old man, who didn't seem upset or even unsettled, in contrast to the rest of the occupants of the room, who were all experiencing a degree of shock, even Teyla.

"This cannot be," she breathed in wonder. "My people ," she couldn't finish, momentarily overcome with emotion.

Sheppard found it hard to believe that this individual sitting before them was the God of their bible, and the God of many different religions; yet, almost all religion focused on one God, one _Father_. "Are you?" he asked.

"Am I your God, Major? Or the God of the Athosians?" Gigno asked, his hands were splayed out on the table, fingernails cut to the nail bed, every one perfectly groomed, the color a healthy pink.

"Either one," Sheppard ground out.

The old man stared at John, and he caught John's eyes, and held them, for what seemed an eternity, before he looked away, and Sheppard felt himself released if from a dream. "You will draw your own conclusions."

"Did you create the Wraith?" Beckett asked, surprising them all. He had an angry visage, and seemed to have found courage to face this being.

Gigno did not reply. He stood up, and walked towards the machine. He pushed buttons, and pulled something small and blocky out of a slot. He walked back to the table, and set the item down, knowing all the while that all attention was fixed on him. "I did not create the Wraith, Doctor Beckett," he sat, and peeled back some type of cover. "The Wraith were created by my opposite. I am, what is the word, _decretum_. The other, _incompositus_, is responsible for that abomination," he spat, showing the most emotion they had seen since meeting the old man.

"_Decretum_, order, and _incompositus_, disorder," McKay translated.

"The devil," Sheppard stated. "Your opposite."

Ford set his weapon on the surface of the table. "Is he here?"

Gigno frowned. "Who?"

"Your opposite."

"Of course, Lieutenant Ford," Gigno said. "Where there is life, there is death. It's the order of the universe."

Sheppard was unsettled by the irreverent way that Gigno confessed the presence of the other. He instantly straightened, nerves taut, "Are we in danger?"

Gigno didn't answer. He arched his head towards the doorway, and paused, as if he were listening to some conversation the others couldn't hear. His face changed from one of casual politeness to one of foul temper. "No," he said abruptly, while standing. "I must go. Please, make yourselves comfortable, I will be back shortly." Gigno retreated out the doorway, and a smooth silver door slid shut after he left, effectively sealing them in.

Sheppard jumped out of his seat, and approached the door, hoping he wasn't wrong. He stood and tried to think it open, and when that failed to yield any result, he tried pushing against the wall and edges. Nothing. He turned to the others, who had watched his actions. Sheppard's shoulder's fell, along with his face. "We're locked in." He couldn't believe he'd allowed them to get caught so effectively in whatever net the old man had woven.


	12. Unbalanced

**

* * *

Chapter Twelve**

**Unbalanced

* * *

**

"How long are we going to wait?" McKay snapped. He was reclining in his chair, his feet up on the table, and arms folded across his chest, with waves of irritability cascading off his body.

John was sitting beside McKay, his legs also up, arms in matching position, and his attitude wasn't a pebbles throw from Rodney's. "Until the old guy comes back," he drawled. "The locked door kind of saw to that."

"_Please_, when has that ever stopped us?"

Ford had moved from his chair at the table, and relocated to one of the lounge type chairs. He was the only one in the group who had not slept since they had set out earlier yesterday. John noticed the heavy lidded looks he was giving everyone. The Lieutenant was half-asleep, and fighting it all the way. Sheppard stood, unfolding his lanky body from the chair. "We should probably get some rest while we can."

McKay pulled his feet off the table abruptly. "What? We aren't going to just give up?"

Sheppard tried to incline his head in Ford's direction with enough subtlety that the Lieutenant wouldn't catch on. "We aren't giving up, we're taking advantage of the situation."

Rodney was about to ask Sheppard if something was wrong with his head, when his eyes traveled the path of the motion, and fell on Ford. He made the connection. "Right, right," he said. "Good idea. I'll just, just lay down." He stifled a painful cough, and headed for a nearby couch.

The idea of taking a quick nap wasn't such a bad one, after all, they'd been up for hours, little sleep, and this cold was moving into his chest. Rodney's mother had always warned him to stay in bed when he got a cold. Of course, she'd been a little psychotic about illness and germs, so once he was old enough, he'd learned to take her opinion with a grain of salt. He had enough neuroses from his childhood, and his parent's maladaptive attempts at raising a child hadn't stopped with the bizarre medical advice. McKay supposed he'd just lay for a while, he wouldn't sleep long. He lowered his aching body, and allowed his eyes to close.

John pulled the tattered tissue out of his pocket, and gave a disparaging look at the pitiful remnants. He should've insisted they bring their gear. He swiped his sore nose, for all the good it did, and stuffed it back in his pants. He found his own lounge chair, and stretched out, when he realized that Beckett was still sitting at the table with Teyla. "Rest goes for everyone, Teyla, Beckett," he remonstrated. Despite his ill condition, he was still in charge.

Teyla murmured something else to Beckett and stood. "Major, one of us should stand watch. We don't know enough about this place, or this Gigno."

She wasn't telling him anything he didn't know. He'd planned on covering for a while, and then waking someone else. "I'll do it."

"No, Major, you won't," Beckett said. The doctor stood, and walked to Rodney's side, kneeling beside him. Everyone noticed that despite McKay's bluster, he had fallen asleep quickly. Beckett listened to Rodney's harsh breathing, and frowned. He put a hand on McKay's forehead. "You two need more rest than anyone right now."

"I'll take watch," Teyla said before John could disagree with Beckett.

Sheppard thought about arguing, but Beckett was looking at him like he'd be a fool to protest. He hated this feeling of being an invalid. He hated being a burden on his team. But, they were right. He would be a fool to try and take watch. He could barely keep the room in focus. He nodded wearily, not bothering to voice acceptance of the situation. He'd let Teyla take watch, and he'd sleep like a good little Major, and try to gather his strength, but he didn't have to like it.

Teyla watched Sheppard's eyelids close, and the soft movement of his chest slowly even out into a regular rhythm. She smiled at Beckett, glad they'd won the battle relatively easily. It bothered her when Beckett didn't return her smile. He was still kneeling by McKay, and seemed to be listening to McKay's chest. "What is it?"

Carson didn't move his head, but brought his eyes to meet Teyla's. "I think he's developed a chest infection."

"Is it serious?" She was still trying to learn the medical terms that were common to them, but foreign to her, and her people.

"Yes," Carson said, his voice sober. "Very. He needs antibiotics now, as much as Major Sheppard."

"But you have them, you gave the Major some earlier," Teyla said, puzzled by the serious tone that Beckett was using. He'd given Sheppard some when they'd made camp.

"Aye, I did, but they are back with our gear."

Teyla suddenly felt as if the walls were closing in around her. In the span of a second, a benign, if annoying, situation had changed into the kind that kept you on edge and wrung out. Now, every minute that this Gigno took, put two men she was beginning to care about a great deal, in jeopardy. How could she have been so stupid to leave things behind, for that matter, how could any of them have done so without a second thought? It had a disturbing implication, because the answer was, they wouldn't have. Which led her to believe that perhaps their actions were being influenced. John and McKay had said the building was alive. Maybe it had the ability to influence and react. Maybe it was the old man. She sighed with the frustration of it all. So many questions, and so few answers, as before.

"Get some rest, Doctor," Teyla finally said. "You need to sleep, as much as the others."

Beckett acknowledged Teyla, and crept quietly, stooping for a moment beside Sheppard, and laying a quick hand against his face, peeked at his bandages, before shuffling to a nearby cot. He dropped his body down with a heaviness that came more from their situation, than his fatigue.

* * *

John was walking in a world of white. It was as if he'd been transported into a cloud, all around was white mist, flowing in and out his hands, arms, body. Everywhere he looked, he saw white, and it seemed to go on forever. He couldn't see an end, or a beginning. It was unsettling. "Hello?" he called, uncertain.

He didn't know how he came to be here. The last thing he could recall was falling asleep on that chair, in the room. Was this a dream? Had something happened while he'd been unaware, and now he was separated from the others? He had no recollection of how, or when, he'd become awake, or aware of his surroundings.

A body appeared out of the mists. It coalesced, and formed, and became a beautiful white angel, startling John. "Where am I?" he asked it.

The white head tilted. "You are with me."

Sheppard groaned, what _was_ it with this galaxy anyway? "And that would be?"

The white angel walked around him. "There is no location to give you. We are here." Dragging tendrils of fog wrapped around his body, like rope.

"Here, as in, not really here, or here, as in my physical body is here?" he tried again.

The white mist seemed to smile, as if that were even possible. "You've been here before."

Now John knew he was in trouble. He was delusional. "Really?" he drawled. "That's funny, I don't really _recall_." He looked around at the foggy world again. "You could use a new decorator."

The misty angel laughed. "You said that last time."

"_The place could use a little something_," John whispered. He didn't know where that had come from, another time, a memory that was, but wasn't. "What's going on?" he said, getting angry.

"You are in grave danger, Major Sheppard. You and your friends have stumbled upon one of our kind. He was banned from us. Here, he's lived out his days, harming none. Your arrival has changed that." The angel had ceased circling Sheppard, and now stopped, facing him. The invisible misty bonds fell away from his body when the being's motion ended.

John looked into the white solidified mist, searching for some landmark of a feature, something to cleave to in this world of nothingness, but found there wasn't anything. "Why? What is he, what is that place?"

"The building is part of us. It was never meant to be found by anyone other than our own kind, but you, Doctor McKay, and Doctor Beckett, have that ability, you most of all. You found our essence, just as you've found this place where we talk now."

Sheppard grasped at the concepts, at what this being was telling him. "Are you telling me that I've accessed some," he struggled to put thought into words, "other plane?"

"Yes," the being answered. "You've done it before, and it saved your life."

John knew what she was referring to. He'd disappeared from the ruins on the ice planet, and no one had any explanation for what had happened to him, least of all, himself. "I did that?"

"Yes, John. Again, you've unconsciously come to us here."

_Think, John, think_, he thought to himself. "Then my body, it's gone, back in that room?"

The mist angel shook her ethereal head. "No, not this time."

"I don't understand," he said, frustrated.

"You don't need to understand. Not now. What you do need to know is that you are in danger, and you must get out of there immediately. Gigno, he is," it paused, flustered. "Unstable. He's spent thousands of years alone, wandering amongst the exemplum. He believes he is a God, that he created these animals, and this world. He is dangerous, one moment a kind, benevolent being, and the next, angry, and altogether evil." The mist solidified to another level with the angel's emphasis on her warning.

"You are an Ancient, aren't you?" Sheppard crowed. "That's what this is about, isn't it? This guy is some psychotic Ancient that you all banished to this world." Sheppard twirled in an arc, elated at his discovery. "What, there isn't any mental ward on the _higher plane_?"

If ever there was an expression on this being's face, now there was a frown. "You don't understand."

Sheppard took a step towards the being, his elation rapidly changing to anger. "You're damn right I don't understand. You people are supposed to be so evolved; yet every time we turn around, we run into another of your screw-ups! My team is being held by one of your nutty buddies, and you are warning _me_ that we need to leave?"

"Major, you do not know all that you think you do," it reproached.

"I know enough!" he spat. "How are we supposed to get out of here? We're locked in."

"You have the answer within, as you always have. You only need to realize it." The being began to float away, becoming thinner, the outlines blurring into the misty world, reconnecting with the vast cloud.

"Look, I'm sorry," he shouted, panicked that he'd pissed them off enough to leave. "We need your help! _I_ need your help."

"We cannot interfere," the voice floated. He could no longer make out any definition on what had been the beautiful shape before him.

"You're interfering right now!" John cried, frustrated. "You brought me here!"

"We did not, you came of your own free will. We could no more stop you from arriving then we can help you escape. We must not interfere."

"Then you condemn us to death." Sheppard said flatly.

"You already know the answer, Major," the voice faded, growing softer. "The building is alive, remember."

He felt his limbs grow heavy, and he closed his eyes against the now painful whiteness of this place. He tried to figure out why she wanted him to remember the building was alive. He felt himself jolt, as if he jumped, and his eyes snapped open, surprised to find Beckett hovering over him, staring worriedly.

"Major?" Beckett asked. "What happened?"

"What?"

Carson frowned. "You were mumbling in your sleep, son. Something about the building being alive?"

John pushed himself up, using his good arm, and cradling his injured limb carefully. "Do you remember when I returned to Atlantis after that cave-in?"

"On the snow planet?" Beckett sat down on John's chair, beside him.

"Yes, I think I know what happened."

"Now?" Beckett looked at him with barely concealed worry.

"I know this is going to sound funny," John cautioned. "I sent myself into the ascended plane, where the Ancients are."

Beckett's hand flew to John's forehead, feeling the heat against his dry skin. It was hotter than before. "Major, you're feverish," he said gently, talking as if Sheppard was losing his grip with reality. "Hallucinations, dreams, it can seem real."

Sheppard pulled his head back from Beckett's hand, irritated, and stood up, putting his hands on his hips and glowering at the doctor. "This is _real_, it happened. They told me this guy is a psychotic Ancient, who was banished here."

"I think I prefer to believe you are delusional." Beckett swore. He continued to regard the Major with a slight amount of distrust in his statement, but Carson had been through enough to accept that what John was saying could be true.

"Wake the others, we're getting out of here." Sheppard strode to the door. _Remember, the building is alive_, he heard the words in his mind, and he knew it was important, but why? He placed his hands on the walls, and concentrated, letting everything fade to nothing.

He concentrated on the hum, the language of the complex. He focused on that like a laser beam. He felt it throb under his hands, and inside his arms, throbbing in tune to the injured arm, and finding a new beat, one that he didn't recognize.

McKay had approached Sheppard. Beckett had woken them, and rattled off some crazy explanation about John talking with the Ancients, and Gigno being crazy, and something about being doomed. He'd told Beckett the doom talk was his to give, and to shut up, and then headed over to where Sheppard was standing, arms taut, and looking like a stoned zombie leaning against the door.

Rodney was about to pull Sheppard off the wall, when the doors slid open, revealing some kind of transporter room. That made sense, something had brought them here, and the ride hadn't been pleasant. "Major?"

"Get in," John ordered. He pulled his hands off the wall, and his pupils returned to their normal state. "It's going to take us back."

Ford and Teyla, along with Beckett, joined McKay and John inside the cubicle. "Take us back where?" Ford asked. He wasn't questioning the story, not yet, that'd wait till they got out of here.

"To the bottom floor, where our stuff is at." Sheppard explained.

Once everyone was safely in, they felt that familiar yanking sensation, and the nausea returned with a vengeance. In the blink of an eye, they were back in the center of the room, surrounded by the cubicles filled with creatures. "I never thought I'd be so happy to see this creepy place again, " Ford said vehemently.

"Let's just get out of here, we've got a long ways to go, and that guy is around here somewhere." Sheppard pushed his way forward, out of the huddled group, leading them back towards their gear.

McKay jogged to pull abreast of John. "How did you do that?"

"You could've done it."

"How?"

John titled his head slightly towards Rodney, still walking at a fast pace towards their camp. He could make out the dark shapes of their sleeping bags, and the bulkier packs on the ground ahead. "The building's alive, remember, and we've got a little bit of Ancient in us."

"Huh, what do you know?" McKay snorted, and it turned into a cough. Rodney tried to catch his breath, but the cough propagated into another, and another, and soon he was bent over, struggling to get a breath into his starving lungs.

"McKay!" Sheppard waved at Beckett, trying to ease Rodney into an upright position, but McKay's desperate attempts to breathe kept him hunched over.

Beckett had little to offer McKay, but he and Sheppard supported their friend while he road out the wave of coughing. It eased its grip little by little, finally allowing McKay to straighten. Rodney's face was flushed, lips pale. He took another steadying breath, pulling his hands away from his face. "God that hurt."

Sheppard was staring at McKay's hands, transfixed by the stain of color. He swallowed, his own throat going strangely tight, as the evidence of how serious their situation had become. "We need to go," he said, finding the words.

"You won't be going anywhere, Major Sheppard," the voice came from behind them.

Sheppard swore, and turned on his heel, beyond angry. They weren't going to be toys for this madman's pleasure. "Let us go," he demanded roughly.

"You know that is not possible." Gigno was standing a few feet from Ford and Teyla. He was smiling pleasantly, but John could see the seeds of insanity in his eyes.

"_Fine_. We'll stay with you," John said, pacifying the man. He could see the surprised look on the others. He had an idea, and at least it would give them more time. "But we need our stuff. We're sick, and hurt, and we'll die if you don't let us have it. We won't be any good to you dead. You'll have no one to play with."

Gigno pursed his lips, the wrinkles and heavy jowls swaying from the movement. He went from calm to giddy in a nanosecond, rubbing his hands together gleefully. "Good, good. It will make you better, right?"

John nodded slowly. This guy was really unstable. As an Ancient, he could have healed them, and then they wouldn't need their gear, but he wasn't going to mention that little issue, because he wasn't getting their stuff only for the medical supplies.

"You can't go anywhere, you do realize that, so go, and do what you need to. I'll give you a few hours, Major," Gigno paused. "May I call you John?" Gigno had now walked up to Sheppard, and threw a hand around John's shoulders.

Sheppard fought to not pull back, or do anything that would set the guy off. "Sure," he said. "John's fine."

Gigno clapped the hand that was around Sheppard's shoulder hard against John's back, riding a manic high, "Wonderful! I'll see you soon!" And he disappeared in a glowy light bulb moment.

Everyone was silent, including McKay. Beckett was staring at the spot where Gigno had been. "I think we're in trouble," he said mournfully.

* * *

AN: Thank you for the reviews! This is my first fic to reach 100 so that was really cool. NebbyJ, it's always different when it's your own story LOL, it's all okay to leave y'all hanging when it's my story, but when you guys do it to me, well then, that's just not right! (smile) ErabuHikari, you know I love Gary Sinise, but I've never seen that movie! Okay, I could write paragraphs responding to all of you, and I really appreciate the reviews, it's great hearing what you guys think. Thanks a TON! 


	13. Dealing With the Devil

**

* * *

Chapter Thirteen**

**Dealing With the Devil

* * *

**

Carson tossed the dirty bandages in the pile beside Sheppard's sleeping bag. They'd taken advantage of the temporary reprieve to treat the Major, and McKay. Rodney was resting after Beckett had dosed him with a double dose of antibiotic, though he didn't have a pharmacy on hand to treat the cough, and congestion. After McKay was settled, Sheppard had allowed Carson to work on his arm, and what Beckett saw caused a great deal of concern. The edges of the wounds were a hot, angry crimson, with weeping, and pockets of pus growing larger in crevices of the wound.

If they were in the infirmary, Sheppard would be on an IV, and having the wound debrided, but they weren't in the infirmary, and they didn't have IV antibiotics, so he gave Sheppard a double dose of antibiotics also, frowning at the low level left in the bottle. He took a moment to examine Sheppard visually. He was laying with his eyes closed, lines of pain drawn up between his eyebrows, and his teeth were clenched tight. Cleaning his arm, and changing the bandages, had hurt, _a lot_, and he knew Sheppard was trying to not shout, or cause a fuss. "All done," Carson said softly, as he taped the end of the bandage.

John focused on Beckett. "How long has it been?"

"An hour," Carson stared off towards the middle of the room, towards the path the crazy Ancient had followed earlier. "Do you think he'll come back soon?"

Sheppard didn't know. He stayed on his back, staring up towards the ceiling, but you couldn't distinguish anything from this far down, all you could see was the light tapering into darkness. "Who knows, but we need to at least try and make a break for it. For what it's worth, we've got our weapons."

Ford was standing nearby. "Against an Ancient?" he asked doubtfully.

John rolled his head to the side, looking at the Lieutenant. "You have a better idea?"

"Short of not being here," Ford said with a small grin. "No."

"Didn't think so," Sheppard replied dryly.

"If we get out " Teyla began.

"Not if, _when_," Sheppard insisted, pushing himself into a sitting position, his knees drawn up to his chest, his arm hanging loosely to his side. He was reluctant to move it the least amount.

Teyla caught the Major's eyes, and held his gaze for a heartbeat of time. "_When_," she said, agreeing, "we get out, how do we return to Atlantis?"

And that was the question of the week. John had no idea how they were going to get home. If they were lucky, they could probably escape the building, but this was a crazy Ancient's home. The guy probably knew every trick to the gates. Sheppard realized what he was thinking. Gigno would know how they could get home, all they needed to do was trick the old man into giving up the secret to the gates! "The old guy!" he said, his voice giddy, and not in some small part because of the painkiller Beckett had given him earlier.

"Major?" Teyla asked quizzically.

"He _knows_, Teyla," John stood excitedly. "He'll know how to gate off this planet!" He felt like laughing, _finally_, one problem they could potentially solve. "All we have to do is trick him into spilling the beans!"

Ford didn't look convinced. "How do you know he isn't listening to us right now?"

John refused to be dissuaded. "We don't, but we've got to take some chances, Ford."

"So you want to wait for this crazy Ancient to come back?" Beckett asked, his words laced with skepticism. "Possibly, this is one of the worst ideas you've had."

Sheppard was grinning like a schoolboy on a Friday afternoon. "No, he's not going to kill us. Think about it," he urged. "This guys been banished for thousands of years. You think he's going to kill the first company he's had in ages?"

Ford was nodding. "Actually, yes."

"I'm with Ford." A weak voice from their right broke the tension. John twisted to see McKay propped on an elbow. "This guy is psycho, Major. He could go all evil and kill us in a twisted fit, do you really want to take that chance?"

"Hell no, McKay, but what choice do we have?" Sheppard was losing the earlier elation, his mood punctured like a balloon, and McKay was the stickpin. "Look, even if we can get out of here, we still can't get home. This is our best shot. Maybe, we can talk him into letting us go."

John saw the disbelieving looks cross his teammates features. He rolled his eyes, impatience with the debate wearing his temper thin. "It could happen," he defended.

"Where did you learn this kind of insane optimism?" McKay asked, and it wasn't complimentary.

"Where did you learn your extreme pessimism?" Sheppard bit back.

Ford put a calming hand out in the air, "Major, I'm with McKay on this one. Gigno is nuts."

"Has he tried to hurt us?" Sheppard persisted.

Beckett was shaking his head no, when McKay's glare silenced his movement. John dug in. "_Exactly_. Sure, he's acting a little Sybil on us, but he hasn't done anything."

"_Yet_," McKay said pointedly.

Sheppard couldn't refute the _yet_, which is precisely why McKay used it. When it came to logic, you can't argue against the future, because it's uncertain, and the simple and irrefutable aspect of the future, is that it hasn't happened, _yet_. In some cases, you could argue past behavior to refute the possible future, but in this case, Gigno's past history would appear to not favor that approach. Although, none of them knew why he'd been banished here, and if you wanted to get even more on thin ice, all the information they had was coming from some dream he'd had. Shaky ground was an understatement; sinkhole was probably a more apt description.

John continued to stare at them, not giving ground, but truth be told, he was tired, and arguing wore him down. He'd told McKay to shut up more times than he could count on his two hands, and probably more than could be counted on four hands. He had decided, and that was that. Sometimes being the one in charge left a lot to be desired. "I'm going to talk to him," he said, and he said it with the finality that left little room for misinterpretation. Ford, Teyla and Beckett got it, and didn't argue, McKay, on the other hand, didn't get it. Or, maybe he did, and just hated to accept it.

"It's stupid, Major. He could kill us all."

"And he could give us what we need, and we walk out of here, and go home."

"And the odds of that are?" McKay sniped.

Sheppard faced him down. "Incalculable, too many unknowns."

"Make _assumptions,_" McKay said with equal resolve.

"You know what they say about assumptions, Mckay," John drawled.

"And the _ass_ this time would be _you_."

Sheppard glared. "Sorry, the position's already taken."

Beckett had been standing by, uncertain of intervening, but the two had gotten to the point where Carson expected blows to begin any minute. If it weren't for the men being sick, and Sheppard's arm, he'd probably let them. They could probably use the tension release, but they weren't in any condition to be brawling. "Major, unless you're planning on fighting with your feet, this conversation is at an end."

Sheppard pulled his stare off of McKay, and glanced at Beckett, "It is now. We wait for Gigno to come back."

No one said anything, not even McKay. Sheppard sat back on his bag, and slid down, stretching his legs out, and trying to not groan at the pain it caused, which rippled up through his shoulder, ricocheting off his collarbone, and bouncing straight into the base of his skull. This sucked. And on top of everything else, he had to go pee.

* * *

"Major," a soft voice whispered in his ear. 

John was sleeping, and it was that hard sleep, when you wake up with grit in your eyes, and a hung over feeling without the party the night before. He didn't wake up easily, but the voice became more insistent, and he realized his body was being rocked back and forth, which was also growing increasingly more violent.

"What?" he finally barked, trying to push away the person who was to blame, and regretting it instantly, for in that sleep-drugged state, he used his clawed arm, and the pain from the unintentional use was indescribable. He couldn't keep the cry back, and he instantly yanked the wounded limb close to his body.

"Sorry!" the voice said sharply. "Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not _okay_, what the hell do you need?" Sheppard snapped. He still hadn't opened his eyes but the bumbling apology had revealed that it was none other than McKay tormenting him.

He felt McKay pull back, and could feel the waves mixed with hurt indignation radiating from the physicist. "Your _friend_ is almost here," McKay hissed.

This caused John to become still. "He's not my _friend_."

"Whatever," McKay replied. "What are we going to do?"

Sheppard opened his eyes, and warily got up, taking it nice and slow this time, like an old man suffering from gout. He glared at McKay once he was fully upright, and eye level. "_We_," he pointed at Rodney's chest, "are not going to do anything. _I_ am going to handle this."

Rodney looked ready to say something abrasive. His cheeks were sporting a hint of anger, and his eyelid was twitching in just that way it did when he was trying to control his temper. "Fine," he said, stabbing a finger back at Sheppard. "You do that."

Further conversation was precluded by Gigno's arrival. He was looking more like the old man they had met initially. For all intents, he looked the warm and welcoming Grandfather that any one of them could've grown up learning chess from, and how to bait your hook just so, and learning what tree grows where, and what type of bird flew south for the winter. Innocent, kind and loving, but they knew that appearances could be deceiving. The only problem was, who was deceiving whom?

Gigno's tunic looked as neat as a pin, and he clasped his hands in front of him, smiling brightly. "You look better, Major!"

Sheppard tried to paste on an air of contentment. "I feel better, thanks."

"Are you ready then?" Gigno seemed overly eager, the first crack in his veneer that John has seen since he'd arrived.

"Ready?" Sheppard felt his nerves tighten twofold; ready for what? Ready to die? Ready to play a game? Ready to go on a tour? That was a pretty loaded question.

The old man seemed to eye Sheppard with disappointment that made John's inside coil with warning. "To see the miracle that is my world." Gigno explained.

A statement like that should mean something. It'd be words promising something pure, and incredible. Something marvelous, and transcendental, but the words spoken from Gigno fell on his shoulders like a death sentence. There were four-alarm bells ringing throughout his mind.

The Ancient was still watching them, façade firmly in place, but there was something there that John was picking up on, and it was so subtle that he couldn't put words to thought. "We need to tell our friends where we are." Sheppard said it as evenly as he could, trying to keep out any hint of deception. Here he sprung the surprise he'd been planning.

Gigno considered John, his gaze was delving deep into his inner thoughts, and Sheppard fought to remain as noncommittal and casual as possible. "Maybe, that might be possible," the old man allowed, surprising John with his acquiescence.

"Teyla and Lieutenant Ford could return to the Stargate, and radio our base, letting our people know we are safe." Sheppard figured Gigno wouldn't want most of them going, or he'd offered to stay by himself. He would've sent McKay and Beckett, but he knew he needed Beckett with him, and if McKay went without Beckett, than he would be bereft of the medical care that they both needed. This was the only solution he could come up with, but he hoped he wasn't dooming the two men to some grisly fate alongside him.

John could see his offer pleased the old guy, and that disturbed him on some subconscious level. Gigno was nodding genially. "That would be acceptable," Gigno looked towards Ford and Teyla. "Will you need transport to the Stargate?"

Sheppard thought of asking which one, but stopped himself. He didn't know what the old guy knew they knew, and he didn't want to give away anything that might compromise his plan. "No," he answered for Ford. "They know the way out, just the door, at the top, it wouldn't open for us before."

Gigno seemed to look inside himself, as if carrying on a conversation with someone else, then focused on the group. "Of course. It will open for you now."

"Sir?" Ford asked the question without saying anything at all.

"Lieutenant, take what gear you can, get to the gate and let our people know we're safe," here Sheppard pierced Ford with a sharp look, "It's just a _jump_ to the gate, it won't take you long."

Ford smiled easily, catching the clue. "Yes, Sir."

Teyla wasn't as assured. "Will you be alright, Major?"

"We'll be fine, right, Gigno?" Sheppard grinned, a little bit of reverse psychology on the crazy omniscient guy.

"Certainly!" Gigno declared, and he looked like an old stuffy butler who had the quality of his service questioned.

"Let's get this show on the road. Where is this miraculous place you want to show us?" Sheppard asked, eager to get Ford and Teyla safely on their way.

"Right this way, if you please." Gigno held a hand outstretched, which didn't take them back the way he had come previously, but up the holographic doorway that led back the way they had originally came.

Sheppard, Beckett and McKay shared puzzled looks, but walked ahead, and through the door, coming out at the end of the long walkway that had wound the way down from their earlier entrance. Gigno stepped out, and around them, taking the lead.

John shrugged at the questioning looks from the others, and fell into step behind the old man. This is what they were here for, after all. "We're off to see the wizard," he muttered.

* * *

Sheppard wondered if the Ancient was trying to walk them to death. They had surpassed the level at which they'd arrived, and continued upward, and upward, and upward some more. John had marveled before at the size of the complex, and as they rose higher, that marvel had bled into sheer astonishment. There was no possible way this complex existed without some form of camouflaging. They had to be twenty to thirty stories in the sky. 

John made the mistake of looking down, leaning slightly against the burnished metal railing, and felt an intense spike of vertigo. He pulled himself back. That was a long, long way down. Though the railing was decorative in nature, it provided a small amount of reassurance. He cleared his throat. "Ah, Gigno?"

"Yes?" The old guy wasn't even breathing hard, and didn't break stride.

Sheppard, on the other hand, and Beckett and McKay, were breathing hard, each breath coming faster than the one before. McKay's coughing was to the point where John and Carson were exchanging worried looks. "How much longer?" McKay's face had gone as pale as a blood-drained limb, and it was clear the earlier rest had only carried him so far.

"We're here, Major." Gigno slid his hand over an invisible panel, and a door slid open to reveal a chamber.

McKay shook off Sheppard's offer of support, and stumbled into the room under his own power. It looked like some command deck, like what they had in the Atlantis gateroom, but there wasn't any gate here. The chamber overlooked the interior of the complex, hanging wide, and vast, and empty as a tomb that had been raided.

They were deadly silent, except for the harsh staccato coughing from McKay. He had crossed the point where he could subdue the reflex, and was struggling to overcome the constant painful hacking. Sheppard knew they were about as bad as they could get and still function. Beckett's patch jobs weren't meant as a cure, and as each hour passed, the patching grew thinner.

John thought the command center was a nice touch, but he had yet to see anything strike him as miraculous. He pondered saying as much, but wanted to see what the old guy had to say first. Always better to be on the defense, instead of the offense, in a situation where you didn't know all the rules of the game.

Gigno was smiling gleefully, and as he passed by console after console in the room, panels responded and lit brightly, suffused with a warm glow. "This is the brain of the complex," he enthused.

McKay had managed to gain control over the harsh coughing, and his face had become transfixed, from a pale, shadow of pain, to excitement and disbelief. "You're using the cloaking technology!"

Sheppard and Beckett shared equal confusion. "What?" Sheppard saw Gigno beam at McKay, a star pupil pleasing his master.

"Very good, Doctor McKay," and Gigno pushed a panel on the console he stood beside.

Sheppard could've swore he actually heard it appear, but his mind told him that wasn't possible. He turned around, and gaped at what hung in the air. A Stargate! The complex had it's own Stargate, but it wasn't fixed on the ground, or anywhere you could get to it by any other method other than Jumper. "What the hell?"

"It's the main gate, Major Sheppard. The gate that controls all the others on this planet, haven't you guessed?"

John let his eyes drift close for a brief moment in time, trying to recall facts, and knowledge he'd once held for a span of time that was eternity in a second. "The prototype," he said, sliding his eyes open, and staring again at the proof before him.

Gigno moved from the console. "Excellent, I see you two at the very least, will be a wonderful addition to our world!"

"Addition?" Beckett frowned with the implication.

"Oh yes, Major Sheppard and Doctor McKay will ascend, and join me, and together we will accomplish so much! What was lost, can be remade. Together, there is so much we can do!" Gigno seemed like a dam that had burst, and words flowed out like a waterfall. "When I first sensed you, I knew! You three all have potential, but you two," and he stared at John and Rodney, "You two are very special. Major, you've already tasted our world, just a little bit."

"What if we don't want to ascend?" Rodney looked like a resentful two year old, being given the wrong candy by an indulgent Grandparent. The truth was, he was scared. He wasn't ready to die, even if it wasn't death in the normal sense.

Gigno smiled coyly. "Do you ask your child if they wish to eat, or sleep, or do anything that is best for them?"

Beckett looked helplessly at Sheppard, who was scowling. "Look, Gigno, I appreciate what you are offering us, really, I do, but you've got to understand, we've got lives out there. We have people depending on us."

"They are insignificant."

Carson seemed to take great offense to Gigno's cavalier dismissal of their people. He reddened, "Bloody hell," he blustered. "They aren't insignificant, and what kind of God are you, what happened to free will?"

"You still have free will, Doctor Beckett. Death or ascension, it is _your_ choice. I let the others go. They were unimportant."

"Are you a gambling man?" Sheppard asked suddenly. His question was awkward, and jarring. It was the last thing Gigno expected, and it was exactly why he said it.

"Gambling, Major?"

"Gambling," John said with purpose. "You've been here a long time. Alone. Bored. After all, what's an Ancient to do with eternity on his hands?"

Gigno seemed off-kilter, he narrowed his gaze, "What's your point, Major?"

"Oh, I was thinking maybe we could play a little game, maybe make a little bet on the outcome."

Beckett and McKay thought Sheppard had cracked, but Gigno seemed intrigued. "Continue."

"What say you set a task. If we win, we go free. If we lose, we'll do whatever you want, free will and everything." John knew he was taking a leap, speaking for the other two, but if this worked, it offered their best hope. At the very least it was a stalling tactic.

Gigno laughed. "I have you already."

"No," McKay said. "You don't. You gave us an out."

Gigno took his eyes from the Major, and shifted them over to McKay, surprised to see Rodney staring at him defiantly. "You said we could chose death. We'd win, and you'd lose." McKay finished, and he ended on a triumphant note. McKay knew he'd hit the nail on the head. Gigno wanted them, and was certain they would choose life over death. He was wrong.

Beckett pulled his lips into a sick smile, finding courage in that small place inside, where the depth of your person resides. "We'd choose death," he stated calmly, but inside he was shaking.

Gigno took his tongue, and rubbed his front teeth, from the back, and hesitated. "Any task I set?"

Sheppard said a prayer to whatever God might be listening. "Anything, but if we win, we go free. You tell us how to use the gate system to go home. If we lose, we'll do what you want."

"Can you heal them?" Beckett asked suddenly. "Major Sheppard and Doctor McKay are sick. They need help. If you don't, we're at a disadvantage. It won't be a real victory."

Gigno waved a hand over the panel, and the Stargate wavered, and dissolved into nothingness. He stepped away from the panel, and the maniacal glee was evident in his posture, his eyes, his movement. Beckett grimaced, wishing he could take it back. But damn it, it was true. They'd get nowhere with the Major and McKay in such sorry shape.

"My will be done," Gigno whispered.

A bright light flared from the floor up, bathing them all in a hot white burning mist. Sheppard felt his body pierced as if by a million tiny arrows. He couldn't see, he couldn't hear, and all he felt was an agony that felt as if it began at the beginning of time and would last until the final atom breathed it's last goodbye. He cried out, and his mind shut down.

* * *

AN: Just wanted to apologize for the delay. RL has been ignoring my complaints, and drawing me away. The good news, this chapter was really long, so at the very least, it'll take a bit to read! Thanks everyone for the reviews, they are the highlight of my day! 


	14. Test of Faith

**

* * *

Chapter Fourteen**

**Test of Faith

* * *

**

Sheppard's first thought was hoping somebody would shut those stupid, cackling, cawing birds, up. Then, his second thought was, birds? What birds? _Crap_! He sat up, and started looking around. The last thing he remembered was Beckett requesting Gigno _fix_ them. He'd fixed them, all right, straight into unconsciousness, and it'd hurt.

"McKay?" John called. He was still trying to get his bearings, but it looked like they were back in the jungle. The screeching birds were a big tip-off.

"What?" Rodney groaned his reply as much as spoke.

Sheppard winced with sympathy. "Do you see Beckett?"

There was a pause, and a loud grunt. Then a sheepish McKay replied, "You could say that."

"What he means," Carson heaved an lungful of oxygen, "Is that he was sitting on top of me. Rodney, when we get home, I'm confiscating your power bar supply."

"I'm not fat, what is it with you two? This is the second time that it's been inferred that I'm bigger than I should be," Rodney accused. "Get over it, I'm big boned."

"Beckett didn't mean to imply you were fat," John placated Rodney, and glared at Carson, not because teasing McKay was wrong, but the timing sucked. "Can we focus on the matter at hand?"

"That's fine with me," Rodney huffed, but he still offered Beckett a hand up.

"So what happened? And, by the way, next time you're going to make a request from the all-powerful psychotic despot of the year, ask first." Sheppard wanted to rattle Beckett for his impulse, but he knew it was only out of worry for their condition that he'd spoken out like he had. Speaking of which, he realized his arm felt good. No, better than good, it felt _normal_.

"McKay, how's your - "

Rodney was realizing at the same time that his coughing was gone, he was breathing easy for the first time in almost a day, and he felt as close to perfect as a human being can. "It's gone," he said, amazed.

Beckett was smiling contentedly. "You were saying, Major?"

"Yes, I was _saying_, just because Gigno did it, doesn't mean it was the right thing to do." Sheppard wasn't ready to let Beckett off the hook so easily.

Rodney was peering at the forested trees, and searching for some sign of what had happened. Gigno had dropped them here, but why here, and he'd agreed to the task, so what was it? Were they supposed to know, or pull it out of thin air? "Is it just me, or are we missing something?"

John had been thinking along the same line as McKay. "It's not just you. The old guy dumps us in the middle of the rain forest, and doesn't tell us what he wants. I'd say, this would be a good time to try and contact Ford," and with that said, he depressed his radio. "Lieutenant, this is Sheppard, do you copy?"

Hissing static was the only reply. John tried again, with the same result. If he thought it would've made a difference, he would've tried it three thousand times, but he had the sneaking suspicion that some annoying old Ancient was jamming their comms. "It's no good," he said. Of course, they already knew that.

Beckett looked at McKay, then at Sheppard, and he wasn't saying anything, but John knew he was dying too. "What? Spit it out, Doc."

"Okay, and I'll admit, I'm not used to this sort of thing, but couldn't we make it back to the gate, and forget trying to complete this task, or test?"

"I wouldn't advise that, Doctor Beckett." Gigno wandered through the undergrowth, coming up from behind the group. While they had already begun to sweat, and wilt in the heat, he appeared impeccably groomed, and not a droplet of perspiration existed on his body, at least none they could see.

Sheppard stepped between Gigno and the others. "What do you want? We said we'd play your game, but get on with it."

Gigno did a mock-offended gesture, and he gave John a forbearing smile. "Oh, it's already begun, Major, it's a test of faith. Do you _believe_? If you do, you'll win. If not, _I_ win."

"Faith in what?" McKay demanded.

Gigno tilted his head, just a small amount, and he had a smile that was as chilling as a frozen lake in Minnesota on a midwinter's night. "In God." And the old man discombobulated into a mass of energy, and floated away, the forest falling silent before his path.

"He's nuts," McKay asserted, not like any of them doubted that point, but Rodney had a knack for saying the obvious.

Sheppard was worried. A test of faith. That could spell very bad news. From all his Sunday school classes he'd attended as a kid, tests of faith were tragedy, despair, loss, and always great pain and suffering. He remembered Job, and the many trials and tribulations the man had been made to face because God wanted to prove to the devil that Job believed. That he had _faith_.

The problem wasn't having faith. The problem was, Gigno wasn't _God_, and John knew the test could only be won if they put their faith in Gigno, but how and when that'd be required, he didn't know. And could they? To save their lives, could they give in to the madness of the old man, and pretend?

"We should probably get going," John said. He looked up at the sky, and he could make out enough of a view to guess it was about mid-morning. Then he remembered a certain pressing need. "If you don't mind, I've got to take care of something."

McKay was right there with the Major, and so was Beckett. They each had the same issue, and found a spot, dealt with the problem in quick order, and regrouped. "Can we find the gate?" Rodney asked. This was out of his territory. He knew how to fix things, read schematics, decode power signatures…he didn't know how to find the way out of a jungle, or track a path to the place of origin, and that was assuming they'd been placed anywhere near their previous trail.

Sheppard took a minute before answering McKay. He scanned the area, but didn't recognize anything. Not that it was unexpected, it was a big jungle, and the old man could've transported them anywhere, but if he was a betting man, he'd say the odds were they were somewhere in the vicinity of the complex. "I'd say yes," he finally replied.

Beckett didn't look like he believed a word of it. "How can you tell anything? It all looks the same. I don't see any sign of our trail."

"He doesn't think we can find it," McKay perceived. "Let you in on a secret. When Sheppard doesn't know, he acts like he does, but he never realizes we all know that he doesn't know."

Sheppard was about to reply to that, refute McKay's accusation, but honesty compelled him to admit, if only to himself, that the physicist was right. John was all positive thinking and affirmation, even when he didn't know the answer or the outcome. So far, it'd served him well, so McKay could take his opinions, and…, "You're so smart, you get us out of here."

"I don't think so," Rodney narrowed his eyes at me. "You got us into this mess, you get us out of it."

_Of all the nerve_, "Me?"

"Yes, you," McKay pointed an angry finger at him. "Are you a betting man," he mimicked.

John rolled his eyes. "I didn't see you with any better ideas."

"You didn't give me a chance!"

Beckett sighed; _here we go again_, "Grow up, the both of you!"

Sheppard fought against the urge to point out that McKay started it, but if anything, that urge proved Beckett's point, he was being childish. Instead, he remained silent. McKay was being a real pain in the ass, but so was he.

Rodney was the one who broke the awkward quiet. "We might as well go. We won't find anything by standing here."

"Yeah," but strangely, John was reluctant to start moving. It was a big jungle out there. If they went the wrong way, things might not work out so hot. He took another minute, trying to find any clue, no matter how small, of which way was the right way, but nothing stood out. He started forging a path, and once he made his mind up to do it, he didn't look back.

Beckett looked at Rodney, who shrugged, and followed after the Major. Who knew, might as well go with it. The funny thing was, they'd have had a word or two to say if they'd known the dilemma had been solved with a good old round of _enie__ meanie miney mo_.

* * *

McKay wheezed, sucking in air. "Major, we need to stop." They had been fighting the undergrowth for the better part of the day. Rodney was tired, and he was about to quit whether Sheppard okayed it or not.

Sheppard, for his part, was as worn out as McKay, but he hadn't been ready to admit defeat. Secretly, he'd hoped to find something before now, but all they'd found was a lot of bugs. _A lot_ of bugs. He turned back. McKay was already sinking to the ground, and he waved the vine he was holding away from his face, as he let it drop, and retreated back to the others. "Fifteen minutes."

"Fifteen? Try fifty," McKay replied, and he leaned his head back against a dead log. Fatigue had removed any restraints he had about what might be on that log.

John lowered himself beside McKay, and noticed Beckett was doing the same. "Fifty, then," he agreed. It probably was a good idea. He was getting worried. They'd had no water, no food, and half the day was gone, with no sign of any of the aforementioned necessities. At the rate they were sweating, dehydration was going to become a real problem.

They'd have to change their priorities. Finding a way out wasn't going to walk up to them and present itself, so they'd need to seek out some basics. There was rainwater, but how would they catch it? It'd be better if they could find a river, but then they'd face the risk of contaminated water. Wildlife was abundant, and he did have a knife with him, so food wasn't as big an issue as water.

"Major?"

Sheppard was distracted from his musings, and there was something in McKay's voice, that caused him to look sideways at him post haste. He wasn't sitting more than three feet from McKay, and there, lying between them without so much as a by your leave, was one of the biggest snakes he'd ever seen, and ever wanted to see.

McKay had frozen, trying to not attract the attention of the beast. "I hate snakes," he moaned.

"Since when?" Sheppard hissed, trying to scoot away without being noticed.

"Since _now_." Rodney was looking at the snake, and he was taking a cue from the Major, and inch by inch, scooted sideways, away from the reptile.

John thought it was a good point. He had to stop his sideways crawl when the beady black eyes turned towards him. He hadn't moved slow enough. The snake was easily ten feet long, and its body was as thick as his leg, it's head the size of his foot. The color blended almost seamlessly with the ground of the jungle, a muted decayed green and brown. Snakes didn't bug him, but he had a feeling this one would.

"Don't move, Major!" Beckett said loudly. Carson had jumped up when he realized the predicament McKay and John were in.

_Moving? Was he serious_? "I wouldn't worry about that happening," he assured Beckett.

Carson, meanwhile, had tentatively approached McKay, and was whispering something to him, what Sheppard couldn't make out. He heard Carson count to three, and on three, he grabbed McKay's forearm, and yanked him up, to his feet, but concurrently pulled him sharply to the side. The snake never took his eyes off John. _Great_.

"Major, we're going to try and distract it, be ready to move!" McKay instructed John hurriedly, and Sheppard saw him reaching for a large stick. It was normally a stick he'd consider big, but compared to the snake, it seemed entirely inadequate.

"Oh, I'm ready," John assured him. He was staring down the animal, and those black eyes blinked impassively at him. If he didn't know better, he'd think it was unnatural, how it sat there; it wasn't normal. He hadn't moved a muscle, and it should've slithered off after the lack of continued movement. Snakes were deadly quick, but they couldn't see worth crap.

McKay stretched the stick as far as he could go, and started waffling it back and forth, directly over the snake's back. It almost reached the reptiles head. It continued to stare at Sheppard.

"Hit it!" John shouted, getting desperate. He couldn't maintain this position much longer. The leaves were tickling his nose, and he swore there was something trying to crawl up his pant leg.

McKay gave him an astounded look. "I'm not going to hit it!" he shouted, "It's bigger than I am!"

"McKay," Sheppard ground out, "If you don't hit it, I'm a dead man."

Carson was urging Rodney to hit as hard as he could, and John realized in some other world, this would be funny, but not right now. McKay started swinging downwards, and the comical thing was, he had squeezed his eyes shut, and was striking blindly at the snake. The first hit finally connected, and it slithered closer to Sheppard.

"Stop!" John shouted, panicked, "You only drove it towards me."

McKay opened his eyes, and saw that it had moved over, instead of turning towards him and Carson. He slapped Beckett angrily on the arm, "You said this would work!"

"And you took my word for it?" Carson shouted back, frustrated. "I'm a bloody doctor, not a herpetologist!"

"Look, I really hate to interrupt you two," John spoke worriedly from his position. He knew now that there was, in fact, something crawling up his leg, and the snake was looking decidedly angry. "Get me out of here, now!"

Beckett swore, and ran at the snake's rear end, "Go, Major!"

Sheppard didn't have time to realize what was happening, before the snake was rearing around, to get at Carson, who now had the thing by it's mammoth tail. McKay was beating on it with his stick. John rolled to his feet, desperately trying to shake out whatever had crawled up his pants, and running to help his friends. "Go, _let go_, Beckett!"

Carson didn't need to be told twice, he let go, and ran for it. McKay took one more swipe at the reptile, before dropping his stick, and running. Sheppard headed out right behind them, and he heard the snake slithering after. He could only hope they had enough time for them to get clear. "Go, go, go!" he shouted, as they crashed through the clinging vines, and thick leaves.

Sheppard didn't know how long they'd run for, but when they finally stopped, he was doubled over, sucking in air so fast he thought he was going to pass out. "Is everyone okay?" he finally asked, when he'd gotten enough oxygen to speak.

McKay, and Carson both nodded yes, shakily, still bent over as well. That had been close. Way too close. "We need to be more careful," Sheppard cautioned.

McKay raised his face, and John could tell he was floored by his warning. "_Careful_?" Rodney snapped, "Careful, Major, is watching that you don't step in dog shit. Careful, is making sure you don't spill water on your pants. Careful is making sure you don't burn toast…careful is _not_," by the time McKay had reached this part, he was shaking so hard John thought he'd fall over, "facing down a serpent straight out of Genesis, that clearly wants to do bodily harm!"

Sheppard straightened, after finally catching his breath. "You're such a drama queen, McKay," he bit out.

"Drama queens live longer," Rodney replied, unperturbed.

John realized Beckett was remaining quiet. He stared at the Doctor, and wasn't surprised to see Carson looked seven shades of green. "You okay, Doc?"

Carson looked up at Sheppard, and he was shaking his head, "You do this stuff all the time?"

McKay found a soft spot, and dropped. "Maybe not quite this bad, but yes, Carson, _all the time_." He pulled at his shirt, which was sticking wetly to his torso, and tried to rub the soreness out of his calves. "We've got to take another break, that did me in."

"Aye," Carson agreed, and dropped next to McKay. "I've got things hurting in places I didn't know existed."

Speaking of which, Sheppard pulled at his pants, shaking, not sure if the bug he felt had fallen out, gotten squished, or what, and he was afraid to look. Sometimes, your imagination can be worse than reality, but he had a hunch that this place was the exception.

"What are you doing?"

John looked up from his leg, and noticed Carson and Rodney watching him fiddle with the material on his pants. He doubted McKay wanted to know. The paranoid physicist would probably freak out if the thought of bugs crawling in tiny places occurred to him. Heck, it was freaking Sheppard out, and finally, he couldn't resist it anymore, and he pulled up his pant leg.

The black dot, about the size of his fingertip, made a wave of queasiness pass through him. He hadn't imagined it, and whatever it was, it was stuck to his leg. "A bug," Sheppard said, and resisted reaching for it.

Beckett frowned, but got to his feet, and hunched down to examine Sheppard's leg. He reached to the ground, and picked up a stick, and prodded it. "Looks like some kind of a leech," he said.

"Get it off," John grated, and he was experiencing flashbacks to the last time he'd had a bug stuck to him, although last time was a lot worse. Still, an alien planet, the last thing you wanted was some nasty critter stuck to your leg.

Beckett tried to flick it off with the stick, but it remained adhered to John's skin. Rodney had joined them, and was watching with fascinated horror. "Does it hurt?" he asked.

Sheppard was about to snap back a wiseass reply, but it occurred to him, it didn't hurt. "Actually, no, it doesn't. I can't feel it at all. I felt it when it first crawled up, but nothing, I thought it'd fallen out when we were running."

Beckett peered up at him, "When did it crawl up?"

"When I was having to do my best impression of the Thinking Man," Sheppard drawled.

McKay winced with sympathy. Beckett continued to frown at his leg. "Would you get it off," John requested, again.

"It's not that simple, Major," Carson explained. "With insects like this you've got to be careful, if you pull them off wrong, they can inject bacteria from their system, into yours, and that's not something I'd want to happen right about now."

Sheppard couldn't believe this. "Can I sit down?"

"Are you feeling sick?" Beckett asked sharply.

"No, but I am tired, and I'd like to sit down," John responded with more patience than he felt.

They helped him to a sitting position, his leg outstretched, and Beckett continued to examine the bug, and would occasionally try to poke it, or prod it, and at one point tried to peel it off.

Finally Beckett rocked back on his haunches, "Major, I know you don't want to hear this, but I think we should leave it, for now."

Sheppard couldn't help the incredulous look that came across his face. There was no way he was going to leave that thing on his leg. "No," he said emphatically. "Get it off, now."

Beckett held up a hand, "Major, listen to me, " he said placating. "If I pull it off, and parts of it don't come out, it'll get infected, and right now, that's a risk we can't take. If it's like a normal leech, it'll come off on its own when it's eaten its fill."

Rodney was with the Major, he wanted it off, but he didn't want Sheppard to get sick. They'd finally gotten better, grudging thanks to the psycho guy, and if they were going to get out of this, they'd need everyone in as good of condition as possible. "Major, listen to Carson."

Sheppard was going to argue. He wanted to yank it off right now, before they had a chance to stop him, but he kept his hands still by his side. He knew they were right. They couldn't take the chance. "This is definitely going on my list of complaints," he finally said, defeated.

"Aye, I'd imagine it would," Beckett agreed.

"We should find some water," Rodney reminded them of another growing issue. It was getting late, and they needed to start thinking ahead regarding shelter, and at the least, water.

John knew McKay was right. He tugged his pant leg back down over the insect, suffering from a mental shudder at the thought, but at least he couldn't feel it stuck to him, that was one blessing. "I thought I heard something to our right, when we were running from the snake, sounded like a small river."

They each straightened their clothing. Sheppard figured they were a sight. Their shirts were clinging to their skin, pants filthy, rivulets of sweat had traced grimy paths from their hair to their chins. He shook his head ruefully. They were a mess, but they were still alive.

"Let's go find this water, then we'll set up a shelter for the night," he peered at the treetops. There was still time left in the day for traveling, but all things considered, he thought it was best they hunker down and recoup. "And Beckett, if that thing comes off in my sleep, and goes anywhere else," here John coughed self-consciously, "I'm holding you accountable."

They started heading in the direction Sheppard had indicated. Beckett smiled; his eyes twinkled with a private joke, as he looked pointedly at McKay. "Rodney, I'll need to do body checks when we stop for the night," Carson winked at Sheppard, as he continued, to the physicists' disgust, "If there be one of those little buggies, there's probably more."

TBC

* * *

AN: I feel like I've kept you all waiting forever, so I apologize. This fic, well, it's a monster of a fic, and I'm handling it with care, as much as possible. Thanks again to my wonderful beta Gaffer! 


	15. Stalked by the Beast

**

* * *

Chapter 15**

**Stalked by the Beast

* * *

**

"This looks drinkable," Beckett conceded. They had located the river, not far from where they'd stopped after escaping the snake. You'd have thought the water would've been clouded with algae, but it was remarkably clear.

Sheppard ruffled his hair, as much to get out some tension, as to work the sticky clumps loose, and scratch the itch that the sweat was creating. "I don't suppose we've any of those water purifier pills?"

Beckett shook his head, and John's face fell. "I didn't think so." He pondered the blue green water, knowing there was nothing to be done for it. "We'll have to risk it. Dying from dehydration will get us before any bacteria will."

"I have a problem with this," McKay stated. "Purposefully ingesting something potentially harmful goes against my sense of preservation."

"McKay, it goes against everyone's sense of preservation, but there's not a lot of choice, so shut up, and drink." Sheppard lifted his cupped hands to his face, and drank. It was cooler than he'd thought, and it tasted even better than he'd hoped. _Might as well enjoy it, even if it might kill you later_, he thought ruefully. "I'm going to scout for some shelter, you two stay here."

"I don't think we should split up." Rodney had finally caved in, and drunk some water. He stopped when Sheppard mentioned his plan, tiny rivulets still running down his chin, sparkling in the thin sunlight; what little managed to filter through the treetops, and what was left of the remaining daylight.

"We probably shouldn't," Sheppard conceded. "But, you may have noticed, there's only three of us. You can't split three into two equal halves, so, stay put, I'll be right back."

McKay looked like he was going to keep arguing but Beckett pulled him to the ground beside the riverbank. "Sit," Carson said. Before McKay could find another reason that it was a bad idea, Sheppard had faded into the jungle.

John looked for possible shelters that could be defended, and at the same time, allow them a retreat. He found an odd sight. There was a large tree, similar to a Sequoia, with a man-sized crack sundered into the base. He glanced inside, and discovered it was just wide enough for them all to fit. The downside, there was no escape route. He was hard pressed to find anything better, and he could just make out the small pinpricks of stars beginning to twinkle in the sky. Time's up, and this would have to do.

* * *

"You know, this is creepy," McKay complained. "It isn't natural to be _inside_ a tree."

"Would you rather be out there?" Beckett snapped crossly.

John agreed with Beckett. McKay's whining was wearing thin. "Go to sleep. You won't be _creeped out_ if you're asleep."

Rodney shuffled his back against the stiff wood. "I can't. This tree isn't exactly a four-star establishment."

Sheppard grimaced; his irritation was reaching new levels. "I've got some kind of alien leech stuck on my leg, we've spent the day hiking through a hot, humid jungle, we escaped a snake that was of mythic proportions, and yet I managed to find water and shelter. I swear, if you complain one more time, I'm not going to be liable for what I do."

"Fine," McKay turned his back to the Major.

John let out a mouthful of air. His point had been made but it didn't make him any happier. He did understand where McKay was coming from. This situation was lousy. Rodney handled situations like this by complaining, vociferously, while the rest of them tried to endure stoically, and the surprising thing was Beckett. He had remained solid; taking each new twist with asteadfastness that was impressive.

"It'll be okay," Sheppard whispered low, more to himself than anything.

McKay startled him by whispering back. "I hope so, Major."

Sheppard drifted off to dreams of massive leeches sucking him dry, and McKay beating manically at a snake that was opening its mouth wide enough to swallow him whole.

* * *

John woke to birds screeching. He could hear the insect chatter nattering away in the distance, and the sound of a soft rain falling amongst the leaves. He peered out the hollowed shelter and could see the steady drizzle of rain, and knew it was going to be even more miserable today than it was yesterday.

"It's raining," Rodney stated the obvious from behind him.

"Yeah." Sheppard shifted back over so he could look at McKay in the gloaming light. "You get any sleep?"

"No," McKay said, and his voice was tired. "You?"

"Between the killer snakes and leeches?" Sheppard joked, "No."

"Speaking of leeches," McKay pushed himself up. "Is it still there?"

Sheppard had a momentary flood of panic as he realized, he'd forgotten the bug. He yanked up his pant leg, and stared, "Oh yeah. It's getting big," he said, worried.

"How big?"

"_Big_, McKay, do I look like I have a ruler handy?" Sheppard grouched, with a bit more of an edge than he normally used.

They both turned their attention to a noise in the corner. Beckett was stirring. The doctor tossed, and turned, before growing still, and Sheppard could see the whites of his eyes when he finally opened them. "Morning, Doc."

Beckett scratched behind his head, absentmindedly, "How can you tell?"

McKay and Sheppard shared a confused look. "Tell what?" Rodney asked for them both.

"That it's morning," Beckett clarified, and he was slowly pushing himself upright, which wasn't easy in the cramped space.

"Trust me," Sheppard said, and left it at that.

Beckett noticed John's pant leg was rolled up, and he remembered the leech bug from yesterday. "Is it gone?" he asked, hoping it was, because he really didn't know if it was better leaving it on, or trying to pull it off.

"Not exactly."

The way Sheppard answered him caused Beckett to frown harder than he was. "Let me see," he scooted closer, squinting in the low light, but it wasn't hard to see. The fingertip size bug was now easily the size of a walnut. He whistled, "That's easily tripled since yesterday."

"Look, this thing is starting to give me the heebie jeebies," Sheppard admitted. "Could we at least try and get it off?" He really didn't relish the thought of marching another day through the forest with it growing even bigger, and he would know it was down there, sucking him dry.

Beckett shook his head. "It's against my advice, Major."

"So, what, you're going to wait till it eats my leg?"

"Don't be ridiculous, just until it eats half your leg," Rodney joked.

Beckett didn't seem to appreciate their humor. "Let's wait and see, Major."

Sheppard regarded the leech, but rolled the pants down over it thinking he'd only give Beckett's idea the rest of today, after that, the bug was coming off. No matter what it did, or didn't, do. He crept out the natural opening in their shelter, and was surprised to see a heavy mist lying thick over the jungle, an ethereal dampening blanket. "It's beautiful," he murmured, wishing it wasn't as equally deadly.

"Aye," Beckett agreed softly. He'd crawled out behind Sheppard, and McKay had followed. "Are we ready?"

John nodded, reluctant. If circumstances had been different, he wouldn't have minded just sitting and savoring the wild beauty. "I'm going to keep to the river, at least that way we'll have water. It has to empty out somewhere."

Rodney tightened his belt. "Do you think Ford will find us?"

Sheppard cupped a hand over his eyes, squinting upwards. Though it was foggy and drizzly in the forest, the sunlight was glaring bright overhead the dense cloud cover, and the resultant glare was painful. "I'm sure he's looking," he said evasively. What he didn't want to say is Ford wouldn't be able to find them as long as they were stuck in this jungle, and if Gigno had his way, he definitely wouldn't find them. Whatever the old man's plan, they'd have to follow this through the best they could.

There wasn't much to be said after that, and the three set out, forging a way back to the riverside. The faint rainfall had stopped soon after the morning had waned, but the damage was done. If they hadn't been wet before, they were now. They'd walked for probably three hours, when Sheppard signaled a stop. John cupped some water to his mouth, and kicked back against a log, pulling up his pant leg. It wasn't all that much bigger than earlier, but it was starting to hurt, and tug at his skin. The urge to grab a stick, and scrape it off, was almost more than he could resist.

Beckett knelt down after drinking. "Not much bigger, hopefully that means it's about done."

"It's starting to hurt," Sheppard informed Beckett, adding maybe just a small amount of whininess, hoping to encourage Carson in wanting to remove it from his leg.

His statement had the desired affect. Beckett's gaze narrowed at his leg. "Since when?"

McKay was used to Sheppard's tactics. "Since now," he supplied for John.

Sheppard idly considered throwing McKay into the river, but figured it wasn't worth listening to him bitch about it for the next few hours. "_Since_," he exaggerated, "an hour or so ago."

Beckett was uneasy, and Sheppard almost felt bad for adding to the Doctor's misfortune, but damn it, he wanted that thing off his leg. He was trying to listen to Beckett's advice, but it'd been enough. Just then, he was distracted by a snapping sound behind them. He stilled, and listened, the others freezing as well.

Sheppard waited, but there wasn't another sound. Yet, he knew, something was there, watching, and waiting. He'd felt a hint of an itch on the back of his body all morning. It was like someone was staring at him across the room at a party, and every time he looked back, the offender would look away. It was just like that. The hairs on his neck raised, and he wondered if it was the crazy Ancient or some other predator on the hunt.

"Let's go," he said. The bug would wait. If something was trailing them, sitting here would be like laying the bird out to be dressed. They needed to get moving.

McKay stood up, but he was looking out past Sheppard, from where the noise had come from. "There's something there."

Sheppard grabbed McKay, pushing him forward. "Yes, there's something there, now move."

Beckett started moving without any help, and they quickly left the riverside, trudging inland slightly, but keeping sight of the riverbank. "What was it?" Carson asked, after they'd been walking again for a few minutes.

Sheppard had a hunch. From the sound of the crack, it was heavy. Snakes, they slithered, and wouldn't normally break a branch like that. Monkeys? Too light, plus they hadn't really seen a lot of monkeys around here. The birds they'd heard were probably not the culprit either. John was pretty sure it was a cougar. They stalked their prey, and they did so with a cunning prowl, and would hunt them on ground or in the trees. Which presented a problem; there wasn't any safe place from the animal, except maybe on the river itself. Cougars would swim if they had to, but they didn't like the water.

"I'd bet my last bag of popcorn, it's a cougar," Sheppard said. Probably best to let them know what he suspected.

McKay's eyes darted around nervously, as if he could seek it out by luck or will. "Are you sure?"

Sheppard rounded on McKay. "Would you quit asking me that?" He was frustrated with the entire situation, and Rodney wasn't helping. "I'm not _sure_ of anything. Reasonably certain, yes, but no, I'm not _sure_."

Rodney opened his mouth to say something, but shut it. Tried a second time, and failed again. Finally, he just turned away. Sheppard had a minute of guilt. This was hard on everyone, but damn, he still had a _bug_ stuck to him, he deserved some leeway for being a bastard.

"Look, I'm sorry," he said, anyway, whether he deserved the leeway or not.

McKay waved an impatient hand his way, and turned back to shoving a path through the jungle. "Forget it," he tossed over his shoulder.

John rubbed a tired hand over his face. He really was acting like a jerk, but the problem was, this was _his_ fault. All of it. They had came here because McKay was trying to mend Sheppard's screwed up mind after the events with the Wraith ship, and lingering issues from past missions that went so far south you'd might as well get comfortable with the penguins (relatively speaking). Then, he'd made the mistake to ask Weir to send supplies and allowed her to know that he and McKay were sick, and then there were three. Then, the Jumper, which probably saved their lives, but now there was five pulled into this screwed up disaster.

At the very least, he'd gotten Ford and Teyla to a temporarily safe situation. But, as he stared at the backs of Beckett and McKay, it pissed him off that it wasn't enough. It wasn't everyone. He wondered if telling McKay the next time Rodney thought he needed help, to recommend Heightmeyer. It would've been a lot easier than this. Of course, he wouldn't have actually talked to her, but it's the thought that counts, right?

"Are you coming?"

The question shook him from his reverie. He saw McKay and Beckett, paused, and waiting for him. "I'm coming," Sheppard replied, shaking off the emotional toll that was getting thicker than a ski jacket on a Colorado slope. He jogged to catch up, and they moved out as one, each lost in their own thoughts.

* * *

They had stopped for a midday break, again skirting back to the riverbank, and drinking heavily. If there was anything harmful, they were certainly done in for. The feeling of being watched had carried over, and after a short break, they had set out again. Sheppard's leg was starting to ache to a degree that had grown beyond uncomfortable, and edged into the painful.

"We need to think about shelter," McKay said, as they continued to wind through the forest.

They were soaked to the skin, sweaty, tired and hungry. Sheppard had found a candy bar in one of his pockets, and he'd let McKay eat it, knowing Rodney was the one that needed it most. McKay's blood sugar thing wasn't just something he rolled out to release stress, but one candy bar wasn't going to help, and when his body finished processing it, those blood sugars were going to drop dangerously low.

"We need food," John said. "Has anyone seen anything that might be edible?"

Beckett wished he had, but he shook his head, glum, and hungry. "Do you think we could catch a fish?" he asked.

Sheppard shook his head. "Doubt it, not without expending a lot of energy."

McKay was staring off into the woods, and he had that look on his face. "Major, you've got your knife, right?"

John felt under his pants to the strap. "Yeah, it's still there."

Rodney was nodding, satisfied. "How good can you throw a spear?"

"A spear?" Sheppard asked. "Good, I guess, why?"

But McKay was in his thought process, and wasn't listening. "You think that cougar is still out there?"

Sheppard got it, and he didn't like it. Beckett must have caught on also, because he was shaking his head like McKay was crazy. "That's too dangerous, Rodney, one misstep and that'll be it. I've seen what they can do."

"Do we have a lot of choice?" McKay confronted them, eyes blazing. The beast was corning them, and everyone knew it. "You have a better idea, let's hear it, otherwise, shut up." McKay reached over and grabbed a thick branch, yanking it down. "I'll be the bait, the Major, he can handle the killing, and Carson, you can…"

"Patch you up," Beckett supplied, not happy with the idea, but also with a fatalism that comes from knowing the cards are loaded, and it's time to ante up.

Sheppard's initial impression of Rodney's idea was that it was a bad one, but the more he considered it, the more he realized McKay was solving their two problems with one stone. They'd go on the offense against the stalking predator, and solve the food issue. "Okay, but on one condition," Sheppard said finally.

McKay and Beckett regarded him with curiosity. "Condition?" McKay asked.

"Tell me one of you has a lighter?"

* * *

Rodney did, in fact, have a lighter. He had shrugged and told Sheppard that he'd be surprised how often you needed one when running experiments, and that was why he always kept a small lighter in his pocket wherever he went. Sheppard had thought about asking why Rodney hadn't mentioned it last night, when they shivered in the tree, but with everything that's happened, he could understand how it probably slipped McKay's mind.

While McKay worked on cutting the spear, Beckett dealt with the bug on John's leg. "Is it off?" Sheppard asked. He was trying not to watch, and all he could feel were stabs of pain intermixed with a tugging sensation.

Beckett had his teeth against his lip, and was crouched low, using two thin twigs that he'd fashioned into a pair of tweezers. He gently wiggled one direction, then the next, working it back and forth, and the sinking feeling as he realized that the outside size may have stayed the same, but the bug had grown inside the Major's leg, and as it was coming out from his pulling, it was leaving a nice sized hole. Being a Doctor, he wasn't normally squeamish, but this was one of the nastier critters he'd seen. "Almost there, Major." He said a quick prayer that it was true, and, that it wasn't doing any permanent injury in its wake.

John felt a hot flash of pain, one that surpassed everything he'd ever felt, except that tic-wraith, and then Beckett was tossing something into the water. "It's off," he told Sheppard, and John was surprised to see how badly Beckett was sweating.

"Do I have a leg left?" Sheppard asked, and the joke didn't quite reach his eyes. He looked down, and was awed by how normal it looked. "That doesn't look so bad."

Carson wasn't going to point out the massive hole underneath the skin. "Aye, you'll live," he said instead. He didn't have anything to use as a bandage, so he tore a strip of cloth from his shirt, the cleanest he could find, and tied it over the injury, giving it one last touch, before pulling Sheppard's pant leg over the improvised fix. "That should hold it for a while. Let me know at the first sign of it getting worse."

"Thanks, Doc," Sheppard was relieved to have it gone, and the pain had faded to a slow, dull throb.

John was surprised to see how dark it had gotten. The sun was down below the horizon, and twilight had arrived uninvited. "Ready, McKay?"

The cougar would be getting braver now that it could move more freely with less fear of being seen, and they needed to be set. McKay tossed the spear to Sheppard. "Ready, but Major," he twisted his neck, trying to get prepared, although there wasn't much to do that could prepare you for facing down a wild animal that probably weighed as much as a full grown adult, "Don't miss."

"Wouldn't think of it," John said.

McKay got into position, a clear area just to the side of a heavy tree. The cougar could come in the air, or on the land, and either way, Sheppard would have a few moments in time to strike first. There was a good chance it would still take Rodney down, the momentum carrying it forward, even if he had a kill shot. If he didn't, well, he wasn't going to think about it.

They settled in, everyone quiet. Beckett was behind Sheppard, and they had their backs to the river. Twilight fought a losing battle to the stars, and turned over its reign of dominion till the sun would begin to make its return inevitable. Still, the three men remained motionless, muscles cramping and fatigue working against them.

Just when Sheppard was beginning to think they'd been had, he heard it. A soft whisper of a leaf out of place where it shouldn't have been, followed by a bowing of a branch just to the rear of McKay. _God_, he swallowed, _if you really exist, let this shot be true_, and he thrust the spear forward towards the bowing branch, with every ounce of strength he had.

McKay jumped towards him, and the cougar began its fall forward, the spear sticking straight out of its head. Rodney didn't quite get free of the animal, and it rolled into his legs, sending him sprawling to the ground. The haft of the spear rolled too, coming around and over, striking him hard on the back of his head.

John yanked the dead cougar off McKay, and rolled him, checking to see if he was bleeding, and breathing. He wasn't, and he was, respectively, so he waved to Beckett. "I think the handle of the spear knocked him out." Rodney was a deadweight, which bothered John. He hoped the hit hadn't been hard enough to do any serious head injury, but deep down, he knew it could be a false hope. The cougar had fallen from at least twenty feet. A twenty-foot drop could garner a pretty good velocity by the time it reached the ground.

Sheppard turned the dead animal over, and realized it was even larger than he'd accounted for. Easily outweighed any of them, and was about twice as large as a cougar back on Earth. If McKay hadn't come up with the idea to turn the tables, and attack it, they might have suffered far worse than McKay's injury. This thing could've sent them flying with one swipe of a paw, which were the size of his head, at least.

While Carson tended to McKay, Sheppard skinned it, and worked on cutting some meat. They had been given a break, finally, in that the rain had stayed away for the remainder of the day, and John was able to find some deadfall that he could get lit. It wouldn't last long, but all it had to do was last enough to sear the meat. It wouldn't be well done, but it wouldn't be quite as bad as eating it raw.

The weak fire he got started gave off enough light that he could search out some more tinder. As he scavenged around their impromptu camp, he saw silver eyes reflecting from the water. He had a momentary pang of relief that he had opted to not toss McKay in earlier. He dropped the collected armful down, and looked at Rodney who was still out. It'd been at least an hour or two. "Doc?" he didn't say anything else. He didn't need to say anything else.

Beckett was shaking his head. "I'm worried, Major. We've done all we can. It could be the hit, or low blood sugar, maybe both."

John was surprised at the anger that rose up. "God damn it!" he snarled, and kicked a log that was near.

Carson understood Sheppard's frustrations, and if he wasn't down cradling McKay's head to keep it off the jungle floor, he'd probably be indulging in some ranting and raving also. But he wasn't, so he didn't, and he kept doing what he could, and that was keeping Rodney's face clear of the insects that were all around, especially now that darkness had snuck in with it's deliberate disorder. The nocturnal creatures scurried about, hungry and awake.

Sheppard grew quiet after his outburst, and prepared two steaks, trying to cover the carcass with leaf fronds, limiting what could get to it. He ate and watched the firelight dance across the still face of McKay, looking very childlike and carefree. After they had eaten, John offered to switch with Beckett, giving him a chance to stretch his legs, and take care of other necessities.

John cradled McKay's head, and was shocked at the dent he could feel in the back of Rodney's head. He knew what that meant, and he knew at that moment what Carson wasn't saying. What he didn't want to say. McKay had suffered a head injury that was probably killing him as they sat here waiting for Rodney to wake up. For a moment, he felt the bile rise into his throat, and he swallowed rapidly, trying to maintain a hold on his stomach. It didn't help that the half-cooked meat was sitting like a lead weight in his belly.

"We aren't getting out of this alive."

Beckett was poking a stick half-heartedly into the dwindling fire. "I know."

"You knew he was dying," John accused, but there wasn't any anger in his voice, just a weariness that sucked the soul out of him. Carson was quiet. Sheppard didn't say anything else. He held his friend, and watched the light fade, one from the fire, and one from McKay, and the night grew cold.

* * *

AN: Thank you for hanging with me. I believe this is going to end with 18 chapters, so approaching the final stages, might be one less, depends on how I feel the story is flowing. I'm sorry it's taking so long to get updates out, but I hope the rest will come a little faster, and also, as to this cliffhanger, all I can say is that this isn't a deathfic, so don't get too upset, okay? 


	16. No One Gets Left Behind

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* * *

Chapter Sixteen**

**No One Gets Left Behind

* * *

**

"Time to rise and shine, McKay," Sheppard said with an edge of desperation. "You've got to quit being such a drama queen."

Sheppard had drifted off during the night, still holding McKay, and when he woke, his arms were stiff and sore, and he was cold; colder still was the body cradled in his lap. John laid the man down gently, and arched Rodney's head back, preparing to do CPR, when Beckett tugged his arm away.

"It's no use, Major. He's dead," he said, voice flat, and face ravaged with emotion. He hadn't slept the night away, and knew the end result.

Sheppard shrugged off Beckett's hold, turning back to McKay, and preparing to do it anyway, when he felt the body resist. Rigidity was setting in. He swallowed convulsively, trying to hold it all in. _God_, this was _McKay_, a man that never quit moving, never quit talking…to see him still, and silent like this…he lurched to his feet, and stumbled to a tree, holding on to it for all his worth.

John wasn't a crying man. He didn't show emotions, he bottled them up, and tucked them away in a place where they stayed until he had to let them out in broken rage, but that time wasn't now. Right now, he was bottling, and bottling for all he could, as if his life depended on it, because he knew that it did, and so did Beckett's. He felt his fingernails dig into the woody bark, and felt the sharp sting of slivers poke into his skin. This wasn't supposed to happen. It wasn't supposed to _ever_ happen. He had accepted the possibility of death, for himself, but not McKay. Rodney was a scientist, not a military officer. He wasn't going to be the one to die, but he had.

"We're taking him with us," Sheppard said, finally, barely contained but steady nonetheless.

Beckett nodded wordlessly. Carson knew Sheppard and McKay had grown close. The two had developed a friendship from the start, that despite it's rocky instability, managed to take hold, like a battered plant above the tree lineon a mountain top; beaten, and blown, but still standing. Lately it'd taken some hits, weathered some storms, but it had stood. He wondered how Sheppard would recover from this, assuming they managed to live, which wasn't looking good.

"We can rig a travois out of some branches," Carson suggested.

John nodded, and started yanking vines to bind the shafts of wood together. Having something to do helped Sheppard take his mind off the purpose of the action.

It took the better part of the morning to rig the contraption to the point of passing inspection. Carson settled McKay's body, and Sheppard helped tie it down. They had nothing to cover him with, so McKay often stared at the two while they worked. That was the thing with the dead, their eyes tend to stay open, even after you shut them.

"You ready?" Sheppard asked Carson, after they had finished, and drunk some water.

Beckett wasn't, but that's not an option. "Aye, let's get this over with."

They moved out, Sheppard taking first shift, dragging the rig with vines looped, forming a harness on his shoulders. Beckett led for the first time since he'd become embroiled in this adventure turned disaster. He broke a trail inland; they'd agreed to continue to keep away from the river, trying to avoid predators that would be seeking out water.

* * *

"Major, we need to stop," Beckett called, breathing hard, and his body was drenched in sweat. 

They had swapped out the travois, and Carson was pulling it through the underbrush, a task that was grueling under normal circumstances, but the Major was setting a pace that'd drive a herd of cattle into the ground.

Sheppard paused, and looked back, noticing the beet faced Doctor, his shirt stained, and soaked from his sweat. "Ten more minutes," he said. He hated to stop. When they stopped, he had to stare at reality.

"No, Major, not ten more minutes," Beckett said tiredly, and he was already slipping the harness off, and letting himself drop beside it. "I can't go another step."

For a moment, Carson worried that Sheppard was going to take the harness, and keep plugging away. However, John came back, and dropped beside the Doctor. "You need the rest," Beckett told him. "We both do."

Sheppard was breathing almost as hard as Carson. Breaking the path for the littler was hard work. But, something else looked off. Beckett was alarmed at the Major's pasty appearance. "What is it? It's the bug bite, isn't it?" he asked, more sharply than he intended.

John didn't even deny it; he just nodded miserably, turning to face Beckett. "I'm sorry Doc. I'm so sorry for getting you into this mess."

"It's not your fault. You've done everything you can."

"You shouldn't have come through the gate," Sheppard said.

Beckett swore. "And where would you be then?"

"Dead," John didn't hesitate in his answer. "But you wouldn't be. Looks like the outcome is going to be the same, whether you had come or not."

"Stop being so fatalistic. And even if you do die, even if _I_ die, we will have died doing what we do, and that's giving it everything we have," Beckett said passionately, his brogue strong.

"It's not fatalistic! I'm preparing for the worst," Sheppard defended. _Was he being fatalistic? Had he given up?_

"You're preparing to roll over and quit," Beckett accused. "What would McKay say?"

"That'd I'd better find a way out of here, and it was all my fault."

Carson winced. "After that," he tried again.

That made Sheppard stop, and consider, because he knew what McKay would say after the bluster, and the whining. "He'd say pull it together, and get the hell out of here, and that he knew I could do it," he admitted. "After complaining about his blood sugar."

"Bloody well, he would, so suck it up, Major, because I'm stuck in this with you, and I have no intention of dying today!"

Sheppard couldn't help the small glimmer of a smile at the thought of Carson Beckett, universal cheerleader. "Thanks, Doc," and he meant it. The timid doctor had a fire in him, and when the going got tough, the Doctor kept going strong with the best of them.

Beckett couldn't help the sigh of relief. "Anytime. Now, let's get some water, and hit the trail."

"Trail?"

* * *

Sheppard was pulling the litter again, Beckett trudged ahead, pulling vines out of the way, and trying to clear the ground to make it easier going, but it didn't help much. McKay was heavy, and the effort to drag him was taking its toll, a price in flesh that he'd continue to pay, willingly. 

He was so tired. In all his life, he'd never felt this bone weary, soul sucking, feeling that he just couldn't go on. He did, though. One foot, then the other, and always moving inexorably forward, towards what end, he couldn't see. He watched Beckett's muscles rippling underneath his shirt, and became hypnotized, because he was so tired.

The midday had come, and passed, and late afternoon was leaving. The jungle had taken its ounce of life. They had traversed to the river off and on, drinking as needed, and always working back away, and continuing the path, hoping for what he wasn't sure. A clearing? A way out? Sheppard began to suspect there wasn't a way out. There had been no sign of a break. He wondered if they weren't going in circles.

The forest was still a beautiful place; it wasn't that anything had changed in respect to the vibrant colors, and squalling noises of animal life. The sun still filtered through on beams of opportunity, breaking through the treetops with determination to scour and give life; but for them, the life wasn't given, it was being taken.

He was growing weaker. That bug that had gotten him had done something, disease, infection, hard to say. He hadn't bothered to have Beckett look at it, and Carson hadn't asked. They both understood that it didn't matter. It wasn't going to kill him today, maybe not tomorrow, but the day after, possibly. And if they were still here, maybe it was for the best. Gigno wasn't far. He was messing with them, and this was all part of his test.

Sheppard wondered if maybe the test was permanently fatal, or maybe it was only temporary. Gigno was an Ancient. Maybe he could do something about McKay. Maybe, the old guy had already ascended McKay. Maybe was for children, and old people. He wasn't going to think about what might be.

"Major?"

Sheppard kept walking, only coming to a halt when he ran into Beckett. He stared uncomprehending, until he realized Carson had stopped. "What?" he asked stupidly. He felt slow, lost.

Carson's features were sad, and lonely. Beckett knew Sheppard was going to join McKay soon, and he'd be left, without hope. He didn't know if this was the plan the old man had set in motion, or if things had gone horribly wrong. He did know that he was afraid. He hadn't wanted to lose Rodney. He didn't want to lose the Major. He didn't want to die alone. "We need to look for shelter," he said instead of everything else he was feeling.

"Does it matter?" John asked, taking the time to look around. It all looked the same now.

Beckett wanted to say it did, but he knew it didn't. In that, Sheppard was dead on. Shelter was only a false hope, a mockery of an illusion. "No," he sighed. "I guess not."

Sheppard seemed to shake off some of the fugue he'd fallen into. "Let's get some water, maybe start a fire. It should hold off the animals."

Carson nodded, reaching forward to take the straps from John. "Let me, Major."

John released it reluctantly, but turned to forge the way to the river. He found a spot that was reasonably clear, and they put McKay south of them, downwind. A dead body being dragged through a moist, hot climate didn't make for good preservation.

Carson helped gather firewood, although it wasn't an easy task. They had to stick to slender branches, which could dry out when the rain didn't fall. Thicker logs never seemed to shake the water. They found a larger fallen tree trunk to turn on its side, and sit against. There were big, creamy mushrooms growing on the dead log, and Sheppard wondered if they were poisonous. He knocked them to the ground, viciously, with more force than he intended. It was a reaction based on his thoughts, and his disgust with himself.

They had a feeble fire burning. It cast short, stunted shadows, as the light faded away without protest. John didn't know what to say. He could feel a weakness growing in his muscles, a shortness of breath that wasn't going away. Beckett was staring at the sparks fluttering away into the air, and a trail of weeping smoke rising above their heads. He knew Carson was as lost in thought and worry as he was.

But, he felt he should say something. He'd moped. He'd sulked, and felt sorry for himself, and Beckett, and McKay, for the entire day. He couldn't do it any longer. "What's the first thing you'll do when we get back?" he asked, his voice startling them both in its loudness, amongst the hushed night.

Carson didn't look like he wanted to come out and play, but he stared at the Major for a beat, before he gave in, and said, "A shower. I want the longest, hottest shower that I've ever had."

"What about a bed?" Sheppard asked. He'd agree shower would be a first. "A real, soft, luxurious bed. And I'd tell Weir not to wake me up for at least three days."

"Luxurious bed?" Beckett snorted. "Major, we are talking about Atlantis, right?"

"After this, anything that isn't a floor, is luxurious," Sheppard said ruefully.

"You'd even sleep in the infirmary?" Beckett prodded.

He had to chuckle at that. He would. It reminded him of a Doctor Suess book. I'd sleep in a house, I'd sleep with a mouse, I'd sleep in the infirmary, and even with a canary. Now he was just losing it.

Sheppard was about to explain the source of his laugh to Beckett, who was staring at him oddly, when he heard it; a heavy breathing, deep, and low, in the thicket to their left. He only had time to realize they were in danger, when a huge beast leapt out towards them, and went straight for Beckett, just like any predator would. They went for the weakest link, and even with Sheppard falling ill to the bug bite, Beckett was still the one who could put up the least fight.

The animal looked like the mother of the one they'd killed; larger and more powerful, and it was dragging Beckett, who was screaming in pain and fear. John pulled his knife and leapt, not thinking twice, plunging the knife into the thick hide.

The cougar howled, and released Carson, trying to turn on Sheppard, who jumped to the side, and grabbed for a stick they had pulled up to use as firewood. The beast paced before him, a dance of death, searching for John's weaknesses, even as he prepared to defend from the onslaught.

Here, the cougar made a critical error. It had focused all it's attention on Sheppard, forgetting the one it'd left on the ground, maimed and bleeding. But Carson had struggled to his feet, and found another large branch, and just as it made a run for Sheppard, Carson threw the stick with all he had left, distracting it just enough when it hit home, that John slid in, and under, shoving the knife up, inside the animals belly, to the hilt of the blade, a death thrust, and both man and beast knew it.

The cougar fell like someone had cut the strings to its soul instantaneously, dropping on Sheppard, who was unable to dodge out of the way. He felt the air forced out of his lungs, and he fought against the suffocating weight. He scrambled against the silky haired body, and managed to push it far enough over, that he wedged himself out from under it.

"Beckett!" he hollered, immediately after freeing himself.

"Here," a small answer.

Sheppard searched for the source in the dark, the fire had been turned over in the fight, and the night was as dark as any blackness John had ever seen before. He grabbed for the lighter in his pocket, and pulled his thumb shakily across the flint wheel, sparking the bright candle-like flame.

Carson lay not far from where John was, broken and bleeding on the ground. Sheppard crawled to his side, not knowing what to touch, or tend first. Blood was seeping out Beckett's nose, and mouth, and his stomach was a mass of red gore. "Doc, you've got a problem here," he said, not knowing the right words.

Beckett coughed, rosy red blood seeping out more from the action. "Don't give up," he fought for a breath, "Please, Major…don't…"

Sheppard fought against the horrible feeling. "Don't you die on me, damn it! _Don't_…" He placed a useless hand against the open wound on Beckett's stomach, feeling the heat from Beckett's life, pouring out at a rate that John knew was going to end it soon. Already he saw the Doctor's eyes fixed above his shoulder, staring out at a night that had become eternal.

John dropped his hand, slicked in blood, and let the lighter snuff out. He stood up, as broken in spirit, as the Doctor's body was physically. "You sadistic son of a bitch!" he shouted to the sky. He knew Gigno was watching. He knew the old man had done this, through design or purpose, he _was_ behind it, and if the last thing he did was curse the Ancient, then that was what he'd do. "I'm still here! Come and get me, damn you!"

Sheppard shouted words he couldn't remember, and shouted till his voice was hoarse, and quiet, even through his screams. He dropped to his knees, exhausted, and stared at the drying blood on his hands, that only looked a darker black in the inky night. He knew it was there. Knew it'd always be there.

He dragged Beckett's body over to McKay's, resting them beside each other, and then he laid down beside them. He wasn't going to play Gigno's game anymore. He breathed heavy, and listened to the noises around. He watched the stars glitter dimly, and wondered which one was Atlantis. Which one he'd never see again. He didn't know what would happen in the morning. He didn't know if Gigno would get him, when his refusal to do any more became obvious, of if he'd wither away, and their skeletons would bleach from exposure together. It would be monument to their lost lives, to their friendship, because he wasn't going to leave Beckett and McKay to rot out here alone and he couldn't drag both. This was it. The end of the road. He closed his eyes, and said a final prayer, to _his_ God, and let the sleep of the weary take him away from this place of death and loneliness.

* * *

AN: Just a few words, firstly, the reviews, wow, you guys are fantastic and totally spoiling me! Stunned by the amount of comments and enjoyed every one, so thank you! Secondly, I did want to explain one thing here. Some of you might be thinking Sheppard would never give up, and I agree with you, but in the context of the story, he knows he's being had, and he's basically cutting off Gigno's macabre attempts. I tried to convey that through foreshadowing, but just in case I didn't quite hit that, wanted to explain a little more for everyone. I'm going to be finishing this off in short order, so hang in there, not much more! 


	17. A Gambit of Interference

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* * *

Chapter Seventeen**

**A Gambit of Interference

* * *

**

John woke up, and abruptly, the memories of the night surfaced and kicked him, like a stray dog down on his luck. His eyes were drawn irresistibly to the bodies of his friends, and he shut them again, tightly, wishing he could forever block out the sight. He felt sluggish, and sick, and knew without looking that his leg was the source.

"What kind of test is this?" he murmured to no one, because there wasn't anyone left to answer.

That's why the answering voice surprised him. "I said it would be a test of faith."

Gigno. So, he'd been right. He was here all along. "Why?" he asked bitterly.

Gigno stepped into view, and Sheppard sat up, but made no attempt to stand. He doubted he could anyway. "Because you asked me to," Gigno explained as he would to a simple child.

"I didn't ask you to kill my friends!" denied Sheppard. "You said a test of faith, how does killing McKay and Beckett test our faith!"

Gigno found a spot beside John, and kicked the fallen leaves and dirt aside, sitting down with the trouble of the very old, which surprised John, because this was supposed to be some all-powerful Ancient. "That, my friend, was the final test. Faith can be in many things; in yourself, your friends, in life. You passed the first two tests, all of you. But the final test only McKay and Beckett passed. You failed, Major, because you quit."

John was almost lulled into the old man's honey trap. "I quit because you stacked the deck," he accused. "You _cheated_. You killed my friends to see how I would react, and that wasn't what I agreed to do."

Gigno didn't seem bothered by Sheppard's ire, in fact, he seemed like he was having a pleasant Sunday afternoon discussion. "Your friends didn't quit, and in their experiences, the other two, which included yourself, Major, died as well."

Sheppard was about to keep protesting when his mind processed Gigno's words. "What do you mean, _their experiences_?" He could feel the small seed of hope growing deep, burning to burst into full fruition.

Gigno smiled, patiently, enigmatically. "You know what I mean. You've suspected all along. Really quite good of you, you know," he seemed to say it as if they were sharing some big secret, only the two of them. "Doctors Beckett and McKay are still out there, walking, looking for a way home. They are quite intent in finding a way out." Then Gigno turned his eyes on Sheppard and considered him like a kid who does something unexpected. "But not you. You quit."

John wanted to believe. He tore his eyes off the mad man, and looked at the bodies, which still lay where he'd put them, looked at the blood and open eyes, and the beginnings of decay and stench hovering like a shroud.

"Yes, Major, you _failed_. Your refusal to keep a faith in life, to keep trying, ended the test."

Sheppard got to his feet, shaky, and not just from the illness in his body, but also from the emotions. He'd been played with, like a cat with its stuffed mouse. "What you call failure, I call friendship," he said, low and dangerous. "I think you're lying about McKay and Beckett. Just like you've lied about everything."

Gigno took the cue from Sheppard and climbed to his feet. He smiled craftily. "We'll see, Major. We'll see." And he snapped his fingers, and everything dissolved like a melting piece of plastic, burning in a fire.

* * *

"Major!"

John was back in that unearthly misty world of white. He spun around, because that voice, that unbelievable voice, was McKay! "Rodney!"

Rodney McKay came running through a curtain of a cloud, appearing whole, and entirely alive. "I thought I'd never see you again," he said to Sheppard, looking very vulnerable.

Sheppard, for his part, was still unsure. He reached a hand up, slowly, and touched McKay's skin, swallowing. "You're real?"

McKay caught his hand as he pulled it back, and grasped it tight. "I'm real, I'm here!" and he said it with an intensity that bespoke the tragedy that he'd endured with the psuedo-Sheppard in McKay's experience.

"How?" asked Sheppard, still fighting against hope. "Where's Beckett?"

"I'm here, son." Beckett strode into view, tendrils curling at his feet by the wake of his motion. "And bloody glad to see you both."

Sheppard couldn't keep the enormous grin off his face. "I thought you were dead," he said, awed and relieved, and so many emotions played under the surface of his words that a painter could've tried a thousands times and never gotten the feelings right.

"Why are we here?" asked Rodney, steering the conversation away from the emotional road it was leading towards.

John shook his head. "I don't know. Gigno told me I failed, snapped his fingers, and poof."

"You're here, because this is the end, Major."

Rodney, Carson and John were standing together, and they all watched as Gigno formed in front of them; at least a cloud with Gigno's voice. "You lost, I've come to collect my debt."

"Take me, let them go." Sheppard stepped in front of McKay and Beckett.

McKay and Beckett shared a look that said it all, and stepped forward, bringing them even again with John. "No," McKay said succinctly.

Sheppard turned his head slightly, leaning towards McKay. "Not the time for heroics, McKay. I just saw you die, and I'd rather not live through a repeat performance."

McKay bristled. "It goes both ways, _Major_."

Beckett, for his part, was as equally determined as McKay that Sheppard wasn't going to be the trio's scapegoat, even if Gigno went for it. But, he was also puzzled by another aspect that seemed to be getting lost in the other issues. "Forgive me if I'm wrong, but isn't what you're doing against the Ancients code?"

Gigno's cloud seemed to coalesce in a wave of anger. "_Code_? That code was decided upon by a few select individuals."

John glanced to his side, looking at an animated Carson, surprised by the Doctor's insight. This was an avenue he had passed over in light of dealing with the immediate threat, but sometimes, the back door was the best way out. "You aren't supposed to interfere," said Sheppard, continuing Beckett's tactic.

McKay hopped on the bandwagon with his usual rapid-fire intensity. "What you are doing goes against every principle of your people!"

The cloud was fairly vibrating now. "My people? Principle?" it laughed, but it wasn't the pleasant jocular amusement, rather a vapid mockery of true mirth. "Clearly, Doctor McKay, you do not know my _people_ very well if you think principle applies."

Sheppard digested Gigno's retort, and felt there was a disturbing kernel of truth, probably for the first time since they had the misfortune to meet the old man. "One bad apple can spoil the barrel."

A softer chuckle. "The bad apple wasn't I, Major. My only crime was fighting to undo the wrongs my people had done," refuted Gigno. "The Wraith," a pause. "We could've killed them before they grew so powerful!"

Sheppard knew that if they had been face to face with Gigno's human form, he'd have been pounding the table with a fist, hair skewed with his conviction. "What do you mean?" John asked, but there was a sinking weight in his gut, and he was almost afraid to hear the answer.

McKay, on the other hand, didn't want to listen. "He's lying," he spat. McKay wasn't a trusting individual, and didn't give second chances.

"The Wraith were a mistake," a cynical laugh punctuated the reply. "Yes, we made mistakes! But it could've been fixed; except our _leader_ said we had no right to interfere." The giggling increased incrementally as Gigno approached the climax of his revelation. "No right to interfere, and that mistake almost eradicated our people centuries later. Our _mistake_ became a plague on the galaxy, hunting and destroying, leaving devastation and death in its wake."

Beckett was shaken by the information, but not so much as to forget their predicament. "But why are you trying to take us? What good can we do dead? Or ascended, whatever you call it," Carson fought to maintain balance. "We're fighting the Wraith, trying to save the people in the Pegasus galaxy, and the legacy of _your_ people!"

And here Gigno's true madness was revealed, even without corporeal form. The vibrating ceased with decreasing ripples to the cloudy form. "Because you will recreate our race."

"That's impossible!" spluttered McKay.

John was inclined to agree, but he managed to remain calm in the face of such insanity. "How?" he asked.

"I was banished here, a guardian over our glory. My crime? I tried to eradicate the Wraith when they were barely into their evolution. I discovered them, and knew they'd become a scourge, though even I never saw their true potential. I was told that as I tried to take life, I'd be condemned to forever care for life. In that, they made a mistake, because I'm here, and now you are as well. Together, we can recreate my race…_our_ race…and fix the damage done by the Wraith."

"The Wraith are still out there. How long will it take before you can create a civilization strong enough to win? Your plan is flawed, Gigno. You can never hope to achieve this!" Sheppard lost the edge of calm, because this was crazy. "What happens when the Wraith find you here?"

The cloud grew deadly quiet. John frowned, looking uncertainly at McKay and Beckett, who didn't know anymore than he did. Finally it spoke, and the voice chilled all three to the bone. "Because I'm _God_. Because I control all life, including yours, and I have seen it. It _will_ come to pass." And Gigno said it with such conviction, that Sheppard knew that reasoning with the Ancient was useless, an exercise in futility, and their backdoor had disappeared in the smoky world they found themselves stuck in.

Sheppard steeled his resolve. "We won't cooperate," he said, speaking for his friends.

"You will," the cloud said, a band of iron will seized Sheppard, McKay and Beckett. "You have no other choice."

Simultaneously, they felt the fire of pain lick their nerve endings, clutching their entire consciousness in agony that peeled back every layer of their being. The misty ethereal world wavered, warped and shattered, revealing their true location still in the complex, overlooking the cloaked gate.

Sheppard couldn't breathe, he couldn't live, and he knew this was death in its rawest form. He could see Gigno standing over their fallen bodies, and knew that McKay and Beckett were writhing from the torture beside him. Amidst the despair over the end, he was comforted by their presence and angry that they were enduring this as well, and he'd been unable to protect them.

Then it stopped. Like a switch flipped over in a circuit, the current quit flowing through the path of least resistance. He lay there, breathing hard, and struggling to recover. When at last he felt some control over his body, Sheppard looked up, searching for Gigno, and for an explanation. Were they dead? Had he finished with them? What he saw startled him.

Gigno was wreathed in bands of white, and Sheppard could see through them to the old man's clothes. He was struggling, but unable to break free. "What?" said Sheppard, trying to understand what was happening.

"The Ancients," breathed McKay.

Beckett had also recovered, and was sitting, watching as well. "I thought they couldn't interfere?"

"Interference is not allowed, however, it was our mistake that led to this situation," a feminine voice fluttered out of nowhere. "You do not blame the tree for the fire that consumes it from the lightening, but a man with a branch does not burn his neighbor's house."

"What?" McKay's hair was tousled, and he didn't have all his faculties in place yet. "Can we have it in English."

"I think she's trying to say that when one of their own commits a crime against someone else, they can interfere," Sheppard explained.

"That is so, Major Sheppard," replied the Ancient.

John got to his feet, offering a hand for McKay, and then Beckett. "We want to go home. Can you help us?" He couldn't see where the Ancient was, but he talked in the general vicinity of Gigno.

"We cannot, but Gigno may."

McKay wasn't pleased with her answer. "Why the hell not?"

"Doctor McKay," she said musically. "We have stopped Gigno's direct action against you, however, we are still unable to directly intervene in your lives."

Sheppard wasn't any happier with the situation than McKay was. "Is it true what he said? Did you have the chance to stop the Wraith?"

His question was met with dead silence. It was the answer in itself, and he figured the ascended Ancients knew it. Beckett was working up to full blown irritation. "Help us, please. We're fighting the Wraith, doing what we can for the people of this galaxy!" he pleaded. "We need to get back to Atlantis."

Finally, another voice, a male this time. "We are not without compassion. Gigno will enter the necessary information for you to gate home."

McKay leaned towards Sheppard, and whispered. "I think they don't want us asking anymore questions."

"I'd say that's a good bet," replied John under his breath.

The bands of air released Gigno, who stood angrily before them, demented in his sense of defeat. The old man was rubbing his arms, trying to restore circulation, and he strode jerkily to the console.

"We have friends, they're in one of your ships. We need to contact them," explained Sheppard, motioning for his radio that had fallen off in the earlier confrontation.

"You may do so," the feminine voice this time.

John reached down and picked the radio up carefully, setting in his ear, and depressing the button. "Lieutenant?"

A burst of static, then Ford's voice. "Major! It's good to hear your voice, Sir!"

Sheppard couldn't keep the grin off his face. "You've no idea. You ready to get out of here?"

"Affirmative, what's your location?"

"We're still inside the complex. Listen, Lieutenant. There's a gate inside, up towards the roof. My guess is it opens like the one in Atlantis. You should be able to fly down, and go through the gate."

He could see Ford processing the information. "What about you, Sir?"

That was a good question. Sheppard saw Gigno pushing buttons in the background, and watched as the gate decloaked in a wave of shimmering air. It started to dial. "Drop down, and point the ass-end towards us. I think we can jump it."

"What!" McKay barked, staring at Sheppard like he'd gone as crazy as Gigno. "Major, that's a long drop."

Beckett wasn't thrilled with the idea either. "Have you lost your mind?" he said, stunned by the suggestion.

Sheppard stared at them, stone faced. "You have a better idea?" he asked evenly.

Suddenly, the top of the complex cracked open, like a melon whacked with a machete, and the edges pulled apart with a wrenching sound of aged machinery grinding together. Their eyes were drawn upwards, when Gigno started laughing insanely. "They can't save you now!"

Sheppard turned his face back towards the old man, who was standing gleefully in front of the console. "You will all die if they don't let you ascend!"

"What'd you do?" John shouted, running over, and shoving him aside. He could see lights blinking towards a common goal, a center target. "McKay!"

Rodney ran to the Major's side, and stared at the display, a dawning horror creeping over. "Oh no."

"What!" Sheppard said, louder than necessary, because McKay was right next to him. He had asked what, but he knew. "It's a self-destruct, isn't it?"

McKay nodded, but he was already working the controls, trying to stop the overload. The console didn't respond. Rodney grabbed the old man, who had seemed to wither before their very eyes. "Fix it!" he snarled. "Tell me what to do!"

Gigno was shaking his head, smiling pleasantly. "It's too late," he whispered. "We are all going to die!"

"Not you," shouted Beckett. "You'll just ascend, again!"

A bright form drifted down from thin air, and stood in front of the three, outside edges wavering, and twisting. "He will not. He has been permanently descended for his actions."

"Oh, great," McKay rolled his eyes. "Just in time to die with the rest of us mortals."

The blob of energy regarded Sheppard, pointedly ignoring McKay. "I am sorry, Major Sheppard. We can do no more."

Sheppard wasn't anymore inclined to give them a break, than McKay. He ignored her…it. "Ford, you got all that?"

"Yes, Sir. Coming in hot; be prepared to jump!"

Sheppard grabbed McKay's arm, and Beckett's, dragging them towards the railing, leaving the cackling Gigno by the console. The gate had spewed the burst of liquid, and settled into the waiting wormhole. "Ready, Lieutenant. Radio Atlantis, let them know we might be followed through by a very large explosion!"

"Copy that, see you soon." Ford cut communication.

"You know we're going to die," McKay said confidently.

Sheppard shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time."

A klaxon started wailing in the background, and they felt the complex began to shake. "Come on Ford," Sheppard uttered.

They saw the Jumper scream overhead, and come to a stop, beginning to drop and even as it did so, the rear hatch began to lower. The rumbling deep inside the building began to grow, and John felt a strong sense of regret, because this building had sentience, and now the old man was killing it, along with himself.

"Get ready!" he shouted, shaking off the morbid thought. They could see Teyla hovering, ready to help catch them. It was up now, close to the railing. The _railing_! Damn! The realization hit McKay the same time as Sheppard, and he felt like cussing everything that had ever been.

Just then, the complex shuddered; he could almost hear it cry, and the railing next to their location melted. He felt the last humming gasps of the building speaking in his mind, an urgent _Get Out_ to them. It hadn't meant them any harm, even though its master had.

"Run, go!" Sheppard shouted, propelling Beckett forward.

Carson took a last look back, and ran as hard as he could, leaping full force inside. He was a hair short, and if it weren't for Teyla, he would've fallen, but just as he started to slide back, her hand latched on to his, and she pulled him forward, to the safety of the Jumper.

McKay was next; making his run for it no sooner than Beckett had been hauled out of the way. He made it. Once he scooted to the side, Sheppard cast a final look at Gigno, who seemed oblivious to their escape. He ran, hell bent for the opening, and in one final leap, hit the grating of the Jumpers floor, in a puddled heap, shouting, "Get us out of here!"

Teyla hit the hatch mechanism, and it started shutting, even as the complex began to explode around them, and Ford shot the Jumper into the waiting wormhole. They just registered the sense of the ship being thrust forward by the explosive force behind them, and Sheppard didn't have enough time to get off a warning before their bodies were dematerialized through the event horizon. His last thought was one of despair, because that Jumper was going to be flung out on the other side with enough force to destroy the command deck.


	18. Send Me the Bill

**

* * *

Chapter Eighteen**

**Send Me the Bill

* * *

**

As the Jumper, and everyone in it, rematerialized on the other end of the event horizon, it was indeed flung through, and followed by a concussive wave of fire. Ford hit the retros, and tried to drop it right there, however the explosive force lifted it back up and flung it forward like a child's plaything. At the last moment, he tried to steer towards the side, hoping to avoid going straight into the command deck. This sent the ship careening to the right, and the momentum carried it up the stairs before it tilted on its nose, then dropped, hanging at an angle where it finally came to rest.

Elizabeth had been standing at the top of the balcony, overlooking the gateroom, and had ordered the shields up the second the Jumper had emerged, having received a curt warning from Lieutenant Ford that they were coming in hot, but as she looked at the path of destruction below she was stunned. The ship had impacted with a screech of metal on metal that had made everyone cringe, as it tore its path upwards. She could only be thankful that whomever was flying the ship had managed some level of control, or they'd all be dead.

"Get a medical team to the gateroom, now!" she ordered, her body already in motion towards the now still Jumper. Peter Grodin put the call in, and then stared in shock at the disaster. Looked like they'd get some practice in doing serious repairs to Atlantian work.

* * *

Inside the ship, the occupants were gathering their senses, trying to comprehend that they'd made it. They were alive! Sheppard tried to raise his head, but found he was trapped under a bench that had torn loose in the impact. He tried to figure out where the others were, and if he had been injured, but the feedback coming in was jumbled. He touched a finger against his forehead and felt the wetness that explained the mixed up thoughts.

"Major?"

John knew that name. It was his, and he knew who had called, but he thought Rodney was dead. "McKay?"

"Remind me never to complain about your landings," the man who was his friend answered, the man whom he remembered lying dead in the jungle.

"We made it," said Beckett. He was half under the bench that trapped Sheppard, and he shoved debris off his legs, trying to sit up. "Is everyone okay?" he asked. Though he was shaken, his medical training overrode other priorities, and he sought out possible wounded, even as he failed to notice his own injuries.

Sheppard was entering into a semi-panicked state as his memories betrayed his current senses. "Doc? But…you were killed!"

The rear hatch hadn't fully shut when they had entered the wormhole, and as they had crashed, after rematerialization, the systems had cutoff, leaving the back partially open. Elizabeth poked her head in as far as she could, and took in the debris, and wreckage of the Jumper, and the people within. "Is everyone okay?" she asked with thinly veiled fear.

She could see Sheppard under the warped bench, and Beckett was slightly up from his position, with McKay to their left. The hatch to the cockpit was crooked, and listing partially closed. It was dark, the power was off in the Jumper, and in the shadows it was hard to see what injuries her people might have.

Beckett finally managed to free himself, and crawled to the Major on his knees, failing to feel the massive gash on his shin. "Major, look at me son, what's the last thing you remember?" Carson noticed the head injury, his eyes had adjusted to the low lighting.

John was struggling with flashes of images that he didn't understand, because everything was in the wrong place inside. He had a flash of McKay leaping away from a cougar, and McKay, dead eyes staring. Beckett, being dragged away by another animal, and lying with his insides spilling everywhere, the blue eyes staring sightlessly. Then things jumbled more and he saw McKay dripping wet, inching across a rope, rolling away from a wolf, and sleeping _inside_ a tree. Beckett again, knocking him out with a sedative, standing over him in the complex, and McKay bringing him a cup of coffee.

"I…"

Rodney struggled to an elbow, but he found it hard to move. He couldn't feel his legs. "He must've hit his head in the crash."

Elizabeth was really worried. She had yet to see any signs of life from the front, and McKay's half-attempt at moving hadn't been lost on her. "Help's here, just sit tight, don't try to move," she said the last part for Rodney more than anyone, but she could see there was something wrong with John and Carson.

A team of medical workers and technicians began prying the hatch open the rest of the way, and soon the compartment was flooded with all the help the team could ask for. McKay was eased onto a backboard, with a C-collar. Beckett was sobered by the information regarding his lack of sensation below the waist. Rodney was trying to keep a stiff upper lip, but Carson could see the fear in his eyes, though he tried to keep others thinking of Sheppard, who still couldn't seem to focus, and was disoriented and confused.

Beckett was loaded onto a gurney as well, something he protested angrily against, but the cut on his leg looked like it might be deep enough to require surgery. A large jagged piece of metal from the bench was the culprit, and it had come close to cutting a lot more if he'd slid any farther forward during the crash. Ford and Teyla were found unconscious in the cockpit, but aside from some contusions, they'd recover. When one of the medical technicians tried to get Sheppard to his feet, two things happened. He lurched to the side, heaving, before he crumpled. Beckett heard the commotion, and cursed being in a position where he couldn't help, but he didn't hold back his opinion. "You damn bloody fool, he's got a head injury, get him in a bed!" Which they did, and in short order, the five were receiving treatment, though for three, the emotional trauma wouldn't be dealt with so easily.

* * *

"Rodney, if I have to chain you down…"

McKay eased his back against the mattress. "I'm not getting up. I was only looking," he defended.

Carson was sitting nearby, in his own bed, using a meal tray as a desk, and a small black desk lamp providing a soft glow to see by. It was night in Atlantis, and the infirmary staff was down to a minimum, with the lights dimmed to the bare levels.

"You shouldn't be moving at all," remonstrated Beckett. He sighed, easing his own body against a position held too long. "We'll know when he begins to wake."

Rodney knew Carson was right, but it didn't make it any easier to sit and wait. They'd been back for over a day. Ford and Teyla had been released a short while ago, and after checking in a final time, headed to their quarters for more rest and recuperation.

McKay had been through a battery of tests, the tentative diagnosis was a bruised spinal cord, and the outcome was hopeful. Beckett had prepared a litany of recoveries from these injuries that he'd seen in all his years of practicing medicine. Normally, Rodney would've been chronically worried over his condition, but for Sheppard.

John was the only one of the five that had not regained consciousness. Beckett had received surgery on his leg, and fifteen staples later, he was recovering. But John, John had suffered a worse head injury than the small amount of blood had indicated. He had bleeding on the brain, and above all else, what was bothering McKay was that the last memories Sheppard had revealed in the Jumper had been that of the faked deaths of himself and Beckett during Gigno's test.

His condition was critical, and Rodney couldn't help but feel as if his world was coming out from under him, because this was way too close to how the Sheppard in his test had died. He'd watched John slip away once; he wasn't going to do it again. "There's got to be something you can do," his frustration, anxiety and his own pain boiling over.

Beckett dropped the papers in his hand, harder than he meant to. "We can wait, Rodney. That is all anyone can do." Carson was equally upset by the situation. They had been through a lot lately, and he refused to believe that it was going to end here because of some crazed Ancients' actions on a far away planet, in a remote corner of the Pegasus galaxy. Through sheer will, he was going to force that man to recover, no matter what…if it were possible. But he'd wait, and watch, and keep praying; because that was all he could do.

Carson switched the lamp off, and pushed the tray to the side, shifting down in the bed. "Go to sleep, Rodney. Let tomorrow bring hope," his tired reply was punctuated by his own sigh.

McKay heard Beckett's breathing slow, and pick up a regular rhythm. He continued to lie awake in the darker infirmary, eyes open, staring at the ceiling, and he listened to Carson breathe, and the machines beep out the reassurance that Major Sheppard was still alive, despite everything. Where there's life, there's hope.

* * *

Over the course of the next few days, Sheppard began to make a recovery that everyone kept promising Rodney he would. John responded to outside stimulation, reflexes and then slowly, small signs of awareness began to surface. An eye open here and there, a grasp of his hand over McKay's fingers.

On the fourth day, Sheppard opened both eyes, and seemed to actually look at McKay, who had remained a steady presence beside him, even though he was usually propped in a bed that had been pushed close. That was how McKay spent his recovery. Coaxing Sheppard into opening his eyes. He read from John's book. He talked to him about the rose that the blond nurse had brought him, though it was fake, so McKay figured that a fake rose was only worth half the brownie points.

He extolled the virtues of Newton, and talked about the latest fight Zelenka had with Kavanagh. When finally, Sheppard responded. "McKay," he croaked, his voice a small whisper in a big room.

Rodney tried to lean closer without moving. "You're awake!"

Sheppard was barely cognizant, but he still offered a weak smile at McKay's statement of the obvious. "Newton's third law…get over it."

Rodney was grinning so wide his face threatened to split, because he had overheard the quiet discussions between Beckett, who was up with crutches, and the other nurses and medical staff. There was a real concern that the Major had suffered brain damage during his injury, and the initial bleed on his brain. The fact that the first words out of his mouth were about Newton's third law, the one he'd finished discussing in some detail, was promising.

McKay pushed the nurse's call button repeatedly, and in the meantime tried to keep John awake, because he could see the Major's eyes were lidded and heavy, and the man was falling back under. "Don't go to sleep!" he shouted, cringing at his own loudness.

A nurse came running in, and as soon as she saw McKay frantically pounding the button, she frowned with a stern expression. "Doctor McKay, how many times have I told you "

"Not me, you idiot, the Major," McKay pointed at Sheppard, who to his credit, was fighting to stay awake, but clearly losing the battle.

The nurse was so delighted with this revelation that she didn't respond to McKay's rudeness. "Doctor Beckett! Major Sheppard's awake!" the nurse took off, towards Beckett's office, who appeared, leaning heavily on his crutches, but working his way to the Major's bedside with amazing speed.

"John, can you look at me son?" asked Beckett gently.

Sheppard struggled to open his eyes further, and probably made it about halfway. "Doc?" he rasped.

"Do you know where you are?"

Sheppard's lips twitched in a smile. "If I plead the fifth, would that be incriminating?"

McKay looked at Beckett, confused, and getting worried. Maybe that brain damage was still a possibility. Carson frowned. "Major?"

The chuckle was dry, and hoarse. "Sorry, Doc. Just…should've seen the dream I was having…and then Newton's third law had to come and ruin _everything_."

Beckett continued to look worried, but McKay was smiling, pleased with himself. "He's fine," assured Rodney.

Carson didn't looked entirely convinced, but Sheppard's eyes were already drifting closed. Beckett touched John's shoulder, comforted by the warmth, and said, "Rest lad, it's okay now."

And it was.

* * *

**Epilogue

* * *

**

Sheppard and McKay exited the hallway onto the command deck. Sheppard was talking animatedly about the nurse who had given him the fake rose, trying to explain why. All McKay could figure out was that it was something left over from his stay after the tic-wraith, and some kind of private joke. Both men drew to a halt as they witnessed for the first time, the damage done by their recent wreck after exiting the wormhole.

There were techs working diligently with welders, and sheet metal, and some scientists were directing others in trying to use raw materials salvaged from the city itself. There was a stock of previously damaged components left from when the shields had begun to fail before the fail safe had risen the city to the surface, and they were being put to good use. What had already been repaired looked almost perfect.

"Wow," said McKay.

Peter Grodin walked by. "Enjoying your handiwork?" he asked, grinning at the stunned expressions on the Major's and McKay's faces.

Sheppard said, "Nice to see you to, Peter, and it was Ford's handiwork, not ours."

"Exactly," Rodney snapped his fingers. "Lucky he got the gene before this mission, wouldn't you say?" he said looking at John.

John nodded sagely. "Oh yes, very."

Peter rolled his eyes, and headed for his console, finding something to do other than deal with those two.

"Still," drawled John, as they sauntered behind Peter's chair, heading for the briefing room, "I do feel responsible," he leaned towards McKay and said in sotto voice, "Seeing that I was in charge and all. I suppose I can tell Doctor Weir to send me the bill."

McKay seemed to consider Sheppard's magnanimous offer. "Quite generous of you, I'm sure she'll appreciate that."

They entered the room, on the verge of laughter, after harassing poor Grodin. They had gotten a lot of '_glad to see you alive'_ looks on their way here, and they knew Peter was just as guilty as anyone. It was nice to be able to escape to the privacy of the secluded room while waiting for the others to begin the mission briefing.

They found chairs, side by side, something they were prone to do without thought, another subconscious testament to their friendship, and an action neither realized. "So," Sheppard asked, swiveling in the chair. "Where's everybody?"

McKay twisted his neck around, looking out the open panels, "Good question, what time was the briefing for?"

Sheppard looked at his watch, fifteen hundred hours. "I thought Weir said fifteen hundred, but we're here, and no one else is."

"You want to call?"

Sheppard would, except he didn't feel like bothering. Elizabeth was probably dealing with something that was keeping her occupied. Probably roped Ford and Teyla into helping, which explained their absence as well. "We'll wait, I'm sure they'll be along," he said to McKay, kicking his feet up on the table.

Rodney moved his legs up with a little more care, still sore, but relieved to have his mobility returned. "I could've taken a nap," admitted McKay.

"Nap?"

"So, I'm still tired." Rodney stared at John. "Don't tell me you aren't, come on, you spent almost a week in a coma."

Sheppard had his arms folded across his chest. "Exactly. I slept a whole week away. I don't need anymore sleep."

McKay was shaking his head. "Not the same thing. A coma is not sleeping."

"Fine, but I'm still not tired."

"Yes, you are, but you're just too manly man to admit it."

Sheppard sat up straighter, pretending annoyance. "Manly man?"

"You heard me. Like on the planet, when your head was crushed in, and I told you to stay down, and you wouldn't and you kept walking, and next thing I know you "

McKay stopped, realizing he had gone down a road he didn't want to. In his version of the test, Sheppard had been on the receiving end of a head bashing, by some kind of animal crashing down on top of him. McKay and Beckett had scared it off, but Sheppard had been hurt. They hadn't been able to get him to stay down. He said he refused to be a liability to them, and they'd keep going. Hours later he had collapsed, and died soon after. Beckett had said it was hemorrhaging in his brain.

"McKay "

Rodney was trying to shake it off. "Never mind, bad memory, where are they?" he asked, straining to look at any place except Sheppard.

Sheppard wasn't going to let it go. Mainly, because he wasn't going to give McKay an excuse to drag him off to some other hellhole in order for psychological therapy, and for another reason, because he'd seen McKay die as well As screwed up as he felt, he imagined McKay was in the same boat, if not worse. Sheppard had seen men die. Men he worked with, and cared for…but McKay wasn't prepared for that, and so far, the Pegasus galaxy was giving him a crash course.

"Bad memories don't go away on their own," cautioned Sheppard.

"Really," McKay replied, sarcasm notwithstanding, "I hadn't noticed."

John pulled his feet off the table, and leaned forward, unfolding his arms, and leaning on the surface. "It wasn't real, none of it happened. I didn't die, you didn't die, and Beckett didn't die."

Rodney finally met John's gaze, and Sheppard was taken aback by the emotion roiling below the surface. "This time," he said starkly.

What can you say to that? "This time," he agreed, keeping his voice even.

Elizabeth, Ford and Teyla chose that moment to arrive. "Sorry we're late," she said, breezing by and taking a seat. Ford and Teyla took a chair on either side of McKay and Sheppard.

"Sorry about that, Major. Doctor Beckett wanted a final run down of our exams," explained Ford.

"Carson said you two were fine, by the way, apparently you had your exams earlier today," Elizabeth said, opening a folder she had carried in with her.

Sheppard looked at McKay, and he offered a small smile, a wry offering regarding their conversation. "Yeah, we're good," he said. And McKay gave a small smile back. They _were_ good.

**THE END**

AN: Okay, first of, again, thank you for reading and reviewing! I've explained why Ford can fly (in the epilogue), but as this hasn't been said for certain after Hot Zone, it's possibly AU. I made an assumption that he'd get the gene after the events in Hot Zone. redick4, I can understand and appreciate your comment. It's complicated staying 'in voice' for characters, and more so on characters that we've had limited exposure with. For Beckett, I truly feel that when push comes to shove, he's got a backbone, and he'd react in a similar manner (based more off of the Beckett we saw in Poisoning the Well). Anyway, especially in a fic of this size, and this level of character involvement, it'd probably be a miracle to get it right all the way through. I strive to find the right character voice, but here I'm taking them into deeper levels, and it's hard to know how they'd react after having just the few episodes. I look forward to season two, and getting to learn more about our loveable trio! And last, but not least, thank you Gaffer, for being a brilliant beta, and Shelly, for being my personal cheerleader!


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